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xomakara · 1 month ago

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The Price of Loyalty

SUMMARY | You lead a double life as an executive at the Lee Group and a Butterfly Syndicate member who must infiltrate the Brotherhood of Ateez as a stripper. As feelings for Yunho and Jongho developes, and your father's truth emerges, will you remain loyal to the Butterfly Syndicate or choose a different path?

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader x Jongho

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

GENRE | smut, angst, drama, Mafia AU, mafiamember!Yunho, mafiamember!Jongho, enemies to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS | mentions of violence/death (as goes all mafia au fics), drinking, mentions of smoking, mafia hits, betrayal, undercover agent, threesome, profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (both receiving/giving), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal and anal penetration

LENGTH | 13,009 words

TAGLIST | @lovetaroandtaemin @yoonguurt

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Soooooooo… I'm trying something new lol. I'm starting a Mafiateez series and this is the first fic in the series! The other fics in the series will have the other members as main characters and each fic will tie together. The last fic will be the conclusion of the whole drama I have unfolding in my head.

Join the taglist here to be notified when I release the other fics of the series. Please be aware that this is Mature/18+ series. MDNI or you will be blocked (I will be checking)

Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this! I'm glad you're invested and can't wait to read the rest of the series as they come out haha. And thank you @hobeemin for the lovely banner and the divider. As always, you never disappoint me! Please like, comment, reblog. I love you all 💚

Mafiateez series masterlist here

“Byeol,” one of the girls called out as she peeked her head from the door of the dressing room. “Your regulars are here.”

At the sound of your stage name being called out, you looked up from your phone. “Okay, tell them I’ll be right out.”

The girl nodded her head, slamming the door behind her. You sighed, looking back down at your phone and typing out a reply before placing it in your purse. You stood up, checked your hair one last time in the mirror, and walked out of the room and towards the booth where your regulars waited for you every Friday night.

You waved at them when they glanced in your direction, giving them a flirty smile, and they both smirked, a smirk that told you this was going to be another good night for tips. You strutted towards them, watching how the regulars’ gazes followed your movements.

“Hello boys,” you greeted them once you had walked up to their booth. “I missed you both.”

Yunho let out a small laugh as Jongho shook his head, rolling his eyes at how silly you were being. The two of them have been a staple at the club for quite some time now and have been your major clients for about a year now. They came every Friday and it was guaranteed that they’d request your company.

“Sit with us, Byeol,” Yunho said.

You climbed onto the long seat, seating yourself between the two. When Jongho offered his hand, you placed yours in it, as he brushed his lips against the back of your knuckles. Yunho grasped your chin and pulled your face closer, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. It was nothing unusual, so you let it happen. They have paid for you for the entire night and that meant there were certain liberties they could take, certain acts they could do without any type of repercussions since they were part of the Brotherhood.

You were their favorite because you knew what they liked, what their fantasies were, and didn’t shy away from fulfilling their needs. Their desires.

You were no stranger to playing the part, but these guys... most of the girls steered clear away from them since they were members of the Brotherhood of Ateez, an elitist criminal group that controlled much of the underground and ruled with a harsh hand. Not to mention that they both possessed an intimidating air about them—something that only you seemed to ignore. You weren’t scared of anything that they had told you or could offer, and they found themselves strangely infatuated with you.

But they didn’t know that you ran the same circles.

With you, it was all part of an act. A carefully constructed narrative, a fake performance.

The owner of the strip club happened to be a powerful member of the Butterfly Syndicate, the Black Butterfly, your boss. She had placed you in the club once she found out that members of the Brotherhood of Shadows spent many a Friday and Saturday nights there, just to have a taste of some of the finest women their money could buy. And when she found out that Yunho and Jongho, two of the top members of the Brotherhood, had specifically taken a liking to you... she knew that you were the right girl for this job.

Get to know them. Get close to them, the boss had instructed you before she sent you on your way. Find out their secrets. Learn as much as you could, then bring that information to her. The boss’ ultimate plan was to end the Brotherhood’s hold over the underground. To weaken them through their leader—and get him to where the boss would swoop in to claim everything they had and possibly add it to her growing empire.

It had been almost a year since you had been tasked with the assignment. Over six months of careful flirting and flattering. And each week, you gained some sort of small tidbit that you would share with the boss, passing the info on to her. As one of the top tier members of your own syndicate, you reported directly to her, giving her the best details and intel whenever you were around the members of the Brotherhood. You tried to stay focused and give the family what it needed and nothing else—especially since you had an assignment to complete.

But still... the late nights had begun to get to you. You couldn’t stop the way your body had started to react whenever you were around them, nor how your heart skipped beats whenever Jongho brushed the pads of his fingers along the base of your spine or the way Yunho looked at you, almost like he wanted to devour you—which you could admit to yourself was a turn on.

But these men didn’t know anything about your life outside the club. Outside the realm of what they assumed was a stripper named Byeol, trying to earn some extra tips on the weekend by entertaining a couple of rich, dark, handsome men. Nothing deeper than that. No clues of the dangerous girl you really were.

A member of the rival crime family who operated out in the northern parts of the city—the main enemy of the Brotherhood, which was founded in the heart of the metropolis. The two groups didn’t mix and if Yunho and Jongho were to find out exactly who you were, it would be disastrous.

For everyone.

But at that moment, you decided not to think about anything except pleasing these two men. If you were to focus on the bigger picture, you may lose sight of what your actual job was supposed to be. Gathering intelligence and collecting info about the leader of the Brotherhood so they could use that information in a strategic takeover of the entire operation. You were ordered not to show your vicious side unless the situation really called for it. So, for now, you would just let yourself enjoy this night with them.

Because, for better or for worse, you had also grown fond of them. The lines had started to blur after a while—or had started to get so faded that you weren’t sure you could easily tell where they were anymore.

You broke the kiss and looked over at Jongho as you let him cup your cheek, brushing his thumb along the smooth surface as his dark brown eyes scanned your face. The deep rumble of laughter coming from Yunho shook you from the trance and your gaze jumped to his face. He lifted the glass in front of him and pressed it to your lips, gesturing for you to take a sip from his drink. You obliged.

The alcohol was bitter as it travelled down your throat, burning the entire way through, and you made a small face in response. Jongho chuckled quietly, tracing his thumb along the shell of your ear before taking hold of your hand again and planting kisses along each knuckle.

“You really missed us, Byeol?” He asked, his breath hot as it washed over the inside of your wrist.

“Of course I did,” you responded sweetly. “Missed your touches.”

You cuddled up against him, your hand brushing along his abdomen, slipping up underneath his shirt. You placed your lips close to his ear. “Missed seeing your cock and having my pussy stuffed full with it.”

“F-Fuck,” he gasped, turning his head in your direction, attempting to press his lips to yours.

You moved your head back slightly, giving him a seductive smirk, knowing that he loved it when you gave him a hard time. When you teased him a bit. Then you placed a chaste kiss on his pouty lips. You shifted away from him, standing up and swinging your hips as you walked over to the small table of beverages the servers always left for the booths. Pouring a glass full of amber liquid and shooting a glance at him over your shoulder. He smirked at you.

Sitting back down, you pressed the glass of liquid to his lips, and Jongho drank the beverage while keeping his stare locked on you. When he finished the drink, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and set it off to the side. You giggled as you placed a quick kiss on his forehead and another on the corner of his mouth before turning your attention to Yunho and getting into his lap, straddling him.

Your dress rode up your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist and leaned back.

“Hi, Yunho,” you whispered as he threaded his fingers into the thick strands of your hair.

“Byeol,” he uttered quietly as he leaned his head forward. He pressed soft kisses along your collarbone, the light touches making your body heat up and tingle. He nipped at the soft skin and a quiet gasp fell from your lips. “I hope you didn’t have anyone else planned for the rest of tonight.”

Shaking your head, you ran a hand through your hair. “Just you two.”

He chuckled, pulling your hips towards him as he slid down in the seat. “Perfect.”

“Should we go now?” you suggested, smirking at him. You stretched your arms over your head, knowing full well how the curve of your breasts showed in this position. “Maybe get a room somewhere...” you trailed off as his fingers ran up the sides of your legs, “or not.”

Yunho smiled and leaned over, placing a brief kiss on your lips. “Don’t get impatient. We still have the entire night, remember? And I definitely intend on making the most of our time together.”

“Plus, we know you’re used to long, difficult nights, Byeol,” Jongho teased as he pressed up against you. “We wouldn’t want to wear you out.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and you chuckled lightly.

“I can assure you,” you paused, pushing your lower body closer to his crotch, “that neither one of you can wear me out. But we should go. It would be much more fun... if we had some... privacy.”

You accentuated that last part by running your palm against the hardened outline of Yunho’s cock.

He inhaled sharply, groaning loudly before shoving a palm in his face and tilting his head backwards. Jongho bursted out into laughter beside you. You were now biting your bottom lip to contain your smile. Yunho slowly lifted his head back up. “What are we waiting for, Byeol? Jongho, make the payment so we can get the fuck out of here and finally have you all to ourselves.”

“Go get dressed and grab your stuff, Byeol,” he ordered while pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips. You slid off his lap and exited the private booth area. The two men watched your retreating form with mischievous glances.

When you were far enough away from them and back in the dressing room, you whipped out your phone from your bag. Pressing a button, you brought the phone to your ear.

“Who are you calling, Y/N?” one girl that worked with you asked.

“Just my sister,” you said as the call went through. “Hey unnie, I’m gonna have a busy night, so I probably won’t make it home for a couple hours. Don’t wait for me.”

You made a show of biting down onto your lip and shaking your head as your “older sister” spoke to you. After watching the girl leave so that she could give you some privacy, you immediately let the mask that you had displayed for the outside fall and a scowl settled on your face.

“The usual tonight. I’ll report in more detail when I’m done with them,” you whispered. The other person on the other end of the line let out a laugh and spoke one last thing. You nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

With that, the call disconnected.

Getting dressed in casual clothes, you slung your bag onto your back and rushed out of the room. The boys were outside, waiting next to the door for you. Jongho tossed his arm around your shoulders and led you through the doors and towards his car. Yunho’s hand landed low on your back, almost grabbing at the swell of your ass as he got into the vehicle as well.

It took about fifteen minutes for the guys to arrive at the hotel they typically stayed in. They usually rented one of the penthouse suites at the building located downtown, a luxurious five star establishment. However, that didn’t stop you from noting how each guy slipped a small weapon onto their person before they climbed out of the car. The men would tell you it was for their own protection, but the reality of the matter was that they had a constant target painted on their backs. With the constant threat of attack hanging over their heads, there were several assassination attempts made on their lives. You would have been ordered to end their existence and to strike them down, but you had the other assignment from the boss. You wouldn’t fail her.

The night would likely end as the nights with them previously had. With the three of you spread across the large king-size mattress in a sweaty, heaping tangle of limbs, the both of them spilling their cum inside and all over your tight, warm pussy. Or your swollen lips wrapped around the length of Yunho’s hard member until he was gasping for release, pouring his cum straight down the back of your throat as Jongho fucked you from behind. They’d do the same to you, having you come so much your thighs would shake. Their names fall out from your lips with the mantra of the filthiest curses and other words.

It wouldn’t be the first time you woke up feeling absolutely sore in the best way. And as they carried you out of their hotel room, leaving some wads of cash sitting on a table, they would certainly pay for all of those indulgent pleasures once again.

“So?”

You stood rigidly in front of your boss, hands clasped behind you as you kept your attention straight ahead. Your boss, the Black Butterfly, didn’t look like a ruthless crime lord that ran her empire out from underneath the radar. To everyone that looked upon her, she seemed to be a very caring and gracious young lady—almost the complete opposite of who she truly was. However, it was for those exact reasons why she was so successful. The double life allowed her to slip beneath people’s radars—especially from the police. She was one of the city’s most powerful figures and you admired and respected the hell out of her for that fact alone.

“Apart from your usual debauchery,” she said as she let out an airy laugh, “what did those idiots reveal to you this week?”

“Most of it was small talk. Just catching up and normal pillow talk. Talking about the usual places, some events they had to attend.” You crossed your arms over your chest, brow furrowing at the frustration that threatened to rear its head. “But there was something of interest.”

“Yes?” The Black Butterfly folded her hands together and tilted her head. She encouraged you to continue.

“Some sort of code about business they had in Japan,” you shared as you paced back and forth. “Didn’t catch the whole thing, but it has something to do with shipments being rerouted. Whatever these shipments are, they’re something extremely important.”

“Find out more.” Your boss chewed her bottom lip, her nose scrunched up slightly. “If they are planning on switching routes, we need to intercept those shipments. Just make sure you find out as much information as you can. I don’t care if you have to fuck them dry, but get that info.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you acknowledged. You spun on your heel, making to exit the room.

“Y/N,” she said, a playful smirk on her face. She rested an elbow on the desk.

“Yes?” you asked.

“You must admit. They aren’t bad looking,” she pointed out. “Kind of funny, the irony. You fucking your sworn enemies and they don’t even know it.”

Shrugging, you laughed a little. “Their cocks aren’t the worst things in the world. Doesn’t hurt to have some fun on the job.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in your boss’ eyes. “As long as the fun doesn’t distract you.”

“It never does,” you said firmly.

“And Y/N? Make sure your corporation is taken well care of,” she added on as an afterthought. Her tone was harsh and held a clear warning for you. “No mistakes, nothing suspicious. Don’t make the same mistake as your father.”

“Of course not, ma’am.” You kept your tone even, with no indication of any faltering. As a family of high-profile criminals, nothing could be traced back to your real identity, no connections or loose ends left unchecked. “No suspicions will arise. That I promise you.”

She smiled as you walked away. You quickly stepped through a door and were immediately greeted by a rush of chilly air as it blasted into the office building, making your bare arms erupt with goosebumps. As you rounded the corner, you saw a figure leaning against the brick wall. The only other occupant outside this late in the evening was smoking a cigarette, the red tip lit up as the man breathed in.

You turned on your heel, grabbing the metal railing and descending the cement stairs and ignoring the eyes that watched you walk away from him. The sounds of your heels clicking against the surface grew quieter the further you moved away and eventually became muffled, almost becoming engulfed in the noise from the city streets surrounding the office complex.

“Another successful night?” The man asked, walking alongside you as you strode down the alleyway. You both knew the path to the car like the back of your hand; your route was so ingrained into your brains, it almost came as natural as the blood coursing through your veins.

“Not any different from usual,” you replied.

“I bet,” he joked, snickering to himself. “You didn’t come home at all last night.”

You raised your arm and gave your twin brother the middle finger. “Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno laughed louder, his head thrown back, shaking it lightly. He held a hand over his chest as he bent forward. “I can’t worry about my twin sister? Especially since you didn’t come back to the apartment until a few hours ago.”

Rolling your eyes, you made a left and headed further into the streets where you had parked. Your brother caught up to you, throwing his arm around you. The scent of the smoke clinging to him invaded your nose.

“Seriously, Y/N,” he said.

“I said,” you stopped in your tracks and looked at him, “it’s fine. There’s nothing you need to worry about. Trust me. I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself. Plus, you know I can’t disobey direct orders.”

Jeno raised a brow. “It’s only because I respect that woman and what she has accomplished that I don’t say some shit about her and your current assignments. Because we both know the amount of time you spend between Yunho and Jongho’s legs, you’re bound to fall in love with one of them, and you know we can’t have that.”

“You don’t think I know that, Jeno?” You asked, crossing your arms and pushing him back. “If the boss is ordering me to sleep with someone and collect intel from them, then damn right I’m doing that. We’ve been through fucked up shit because of dad and after he was murdered...”

You trailed off, memories flashing across your brain. The scene you came across was ingrained in your mind.

When you both discovered his corpse, murdered, it was a day that changed you forever. It was a turning point — the catalyst. The blood and the mess that soaked the floor underneath his body... the deadness and emptiness of his eyes as they stared right up at you and your twin brother. If not for that day, you never would’ve become the stone-cold killer that you are now. Never would’ve tasted blood and pain how you had.

Never would have taken this spot in the Butterfly Syndicate, ascending to become one of the higher-ranking members that the Black Butterfly trusts with most of her assignments.

“Still,” you continued, bringing yourself out of those dark moments, “We’re only still doing all of this for him.”

“Yea,” he whispered, blinking several times before his attention fell to the ground, his hair covering his eyes. “You know dad wouldn’t have wanted us to fall in his footsteps. He always wanted us to lead normal lives and not carry all of this baggage. What do you think he would have said? Seeing us both in the middle of all of this?”

“He wouldn’t have approved,” you admitted. “We were his little babies.”

“I know that we took over the family business,” Jeno sighed as he mentioned the family business. “People would have a field day if they knew the Lee Group was a part of the Butterfly Syndicate. After all the times we were a neutral party…”

Lee Group—the major corporation run and operated out of the heart of the city — was known for being a leader within the technology and medical supply industries and for making headlines because of their incredible charity works. By day, you were the Executive Director, handling the administration aspect of the business.

However, by night... your name was something else altogether. Your day job, working with the corporation, was to ensure that the lines did not cross and that your underground affairs did not affect the legitimate business dealings of the corporation. It was also to give you both an alibi. At first, both you and Jeno had protested being included in the company, claiming that your father wanted nothing to do with the two of you having the same life that he had—constantly walking a thin line and carrying such a heavy burden. But when your father was murdered, it was clear what choice you both had to make. You would just honor his wishes and build upon everything that he had left behind—protect your family’s legacy with everything you had in you.

Even if it meant becoming a tool for the Butterfly Syndicate.

A heavy silence fell over both of you as you tried to steer your thoughts away from that memory. Turning back around, you walked a couple of steps down the road. But something stopped you.

“Hey, Y/N,” your brother said quietly from behind.

You halted mid-step, foot paused just before it connected with the ground. You turned your body slightly.

“Have you ever thought of... I mean, about your situation. With the boys?” Jeno brought his palm to the back of his neck. He rubbed it gently. “Is there any chance it’s starting to become something more? That you actually want to be with them, outside of what your assignment requires?”

“No. I... No. There isn’t. I can’t,” your voice faltered, trailing off and falling to the wind, becoming lost in the sounds of the city streets. You clenched your jaw tightly, flexing the muscles there, and tensing. Taking in a deep breath, you focused. “Who they spend the night with is Byeol, a stripper. Not me. Those guys aren’t with Y/N.”

“Besides, who’d want me when they find out the shit that I’ve done? Who’d want Y/N?” you laughed humorlessly. The tone was dripping with bitterness, every word drenched in a bitterness that only you and your brother recognized. “She’s not the one to be with.”

You whipped back around, continuing the walk, pulling the keys out and unlocking the door. Throwing the vehicle into gear and backing out, you took off towards home and hopefully a night free of the events that happened just minutes before.

Once you arrived at your apartment and settled down for the night, a text arrived on your phone. Lifting the device, a notification lit up the screen with a bright light. Your eyes scanned the text and the images attached. You let the phone drop onto the surface next to the bed with a thud and rolled over.

You should have expected that to show up. After all, these texts often did arrive unannounced. Sometimes, only on the days after you had seen the guys. Pictures and videos of the guys and you that you’ve taken throughout your sexual exploits.

This message was just a video. When the device came back on the screen, an image of you on your knees with a mouth full of dick popped up on the display. The moans that followed from the video were ones that you recalled: you begging and pleading for Yunho or Jongho to just fuck you senseless. A muffled sigh came from your own lips as you recalled the many times the two of them have fucked you hard. Fucked you raw and filled you until your stomach was swollen and a sloppy mixture of their seed dribbled out of your hole.

Rolling over again, you buried your face in your pillow. Letting your eyes flutter close, the weight of the fatigue that had lingered on your shoulders pulled you down and you drifted into the first deep sleep that you’d have in months.

It was going to be a few days until you saw them again and your schedule for the rest of this week was packed with assignments for the syndicate. Maybe, just maybe, these three days would be enough for the aching feeling between your thighs to dull just a bit.

Little did you know—it never did.

“You finished counting that batch up? It’s almost time for our meeting with the group,” Yunho announced from behind Jongho.

Jongho stretched, rolling his head and letting out a satisfying moan when his joints popped in place. Glancing to the side, his eyes fell onto Yunho as his friend straightened the sleeves to his dark jacket. The other guy was running a hand through his hair, eyes staring directly at him. His large fingers were carefully fastening the button and clasp, keeping the clothing on and preventing it from coming loose during their exchange.

“Yea,” the younger man said with a smile, his lips turning up in a wicked smile. “Count’s right, just like every other shipment. Remind me to tell San that I’m not doing the counts anymore. I’m a consigliere, not a counter.”

“I feel you. I’m the lieutenant. I’m too important to waste my time like that,” Yunho exhaled a deep breath. He reached for the half drunk bottle of amber liquid beside him and poured the remaining alcohol in the glass, shooting a generous amount of the golden, fiery liquid. Once the container was empty, he set the glass aside and wandered closer to where his friend sat, an arm thrown behind him on the couch. “Can’t wait until this week is over. All the business and meetings are driving me nuts.”

“Really now?” Jongho asked.

“The only thing that’ll make it better is Byeol on my lap when we’re done,” Yunho whispered, a grin spreading across his cheeks. He wiggled his eyebrows and the man across the couch shook his head. “Just a few more days. Can’t wait. That video you took was so hot. Just like all the other ones, it drove me fucking wild.”

“Thought you’d enjoy it, hyung,” Jongho quipped, amused. “Considering all the times we fucked her pussy raw and came all over her, the evidence of how much fun we have can only get hotter.”

They walked together, hands clasped behind their heads and fingers laced behind their skulls as they continued their stroll down the corridor. As they reached the main section of the room, the other top members of the organization were there: all wearing either suits or attire fitting of high-ranking gangsters. Yunho and Jongho made their way towards the only chairs vacant at the table.

“Now that Yunho and Jongho are here,” the boss started, fixing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “let’s proceed with the meeting.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to Kim Hongjoong, the boss who ruled over the entire faction. He commanded everyone’s loyalty and if it wasn’t given freely; it was extracted through blood, death, and violence. And those that swore loyalty to him—Hongjoong was someone to be feared and to fear for.

His power over this group allowed the money from their illegal affairs to flow with ease and plenty. Everyone who swore their allegiance reaped the benefits. And to protect the interests and to keep this business going, no expense was spared.

“Next week, the new shipment is going to arrive at a new port,” Hongjoong flipped open a map and gestured to a location marked with a red pin. “After the transaction is complete, the product will be delivered straight to the factories. Production will take place over the next month and when ready, sales can begin to take place.”

Hongjoong looked over at the men. “Seonghwa, any news on the Butterfly Syndicate? What is their movement this week?”

Seonghwa, the deceptively cold-hearted underboss of the Brotherhood of Ateez, stood up and faced the rest of the crew. “I received reports on the activity they have been up to recently. They signed contracts with the Neo Clan and Blue Melodies on some of their trade deals. Seems like they’re trying to secure a foothold in other cities.”

“The arms?” Hongjoong asked a handsome, beefy man across from him.

“Are well stocked,” Wooyoung responded as he leaned back in the chair and cracked a smile. He smiled wider, turning around to face the head of the group, almost a little too excitedly. “And if I do say so, boss, the Butterflies would love to get their hands on it.”

A chorus of laughter rumbled through the table. Several of the people that were gathered leaned against the desk or tapped the surface. One of them reached down for the case of beers by his feet, offering one to everyone present.

Hongjoong motioned to continue the conversation. “Any issues with our operations? Anything we need to take care of?”

“It was slow on the usual drug routes,” Mingi said, “but everything else is smooth. All other trades are solid.”

The discussion continued for a few minutes more. Just about the regular operations of the faction and their enterprise. In total, the group would discuss for a few hours on topics that ranged from the security of the newest weapons on their roster to the details on the business of their trade and finally—the recent rumors about their rival organizations.

“Yunho. Jongho,” San started. He pointed his finger from left to right. “Are ya’ll still seeing that stripper?”

“We are,” Yunho crossed his ankle over the opposite knee and shrugged. He wiggled his eyebrows a bit and threw his arms over the back of his chair. “She’s a feisty one, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t think I need to know what you guys get up to,” Yeosang had a drink perched against the corner of his lips and took a long, deep pull of the drink before setting it down. “Don’t need all the disgusting, dirty details.”

“Wait till he sees this, though,” Jongho dug into his pants and pulled out his phone, flipping through it until he found the image. He passed it towards his hyung.

“Damn,” Yeosang whistled softly. He handed the cell back to the younger and clapped once, rising from his seat. “But I am curious, you know. This girl... never mind.”

“Spit it out, hyung,” Jongho chirped playfully. The cheeky guy leaned forward and grinned, his pearly whites showing. “We all wanna know.”

“It’s just weird, you know?” Yeosang began. “After you two are with this girl, somehow the Butterfly Syndicate always seems to have an idea of where to locate us.”

“Are you saying,” Jongho moved to his seat slowly, folding his arms over his broad chest, his arms pushing his pectorals tighter together, “this girl has anything to do with it?”

“I’m not saying she’s a snitch,” Yeosang’s voice was steady and firm. He looked over his shoulder before letting out a small whisper. “All I’m saying is they seem to get an idea on how to sniff out the next deal, the next shipment. It seems odd, considering she is just a random strip club dancer and your usual nighttime flings.”

“It’s alright Yeosang,” Hongjoong assured. “She may be a strip club dancer, but she’s more than that.”

“Sir?” Seonghwa asked.

“She’s more than you know,” the boss continued, fixing a black-and-white striped suit sleeve and tightening the cufflink against the fabric. “The question is if she’ll switch sides.”

“I’m lost,” Mingi frowned.

“This stripper is Lee Wooseok’s daughter,” Hongjoong uttered, closing his eyes in an attempt to find the words. “And she’s a high-ranking member of the Butterfly Syndicate.”

“Lee Wooseok? As in the Lee Group?” San asked, Hongjoong nodding his head.

A sudden shift ran through the air. The once tense atmosphere became a void of complete silence and it seemed as if the surrounding time had also stopped moving.

“If that’s the case,” Seonghwa trailed off, “if we can convert her over and gain her loyalties, it would mean the biggest gain. The one they would never expect.”

Wooyoung clicked his tongue. He leaned back against the chair, eyeing the other guys. “Think it could work? If Yunho and Jongho fuck her brain cells away?”

“There’s no need for that,” Hongjoong softly laughed. “Mingi, please go and escort Lee Wooseok to headquarters. I’m sure his children would be more than pleased to see him again.”

Mingi got up from the desk, the scrape of the chair’s legs loud against the flooring. “On it, sir.”

“Yunho. Jongho. Since you have grown close to the woman, I would like for the two of you to help with our discussion.” Hongjoong slowly glanced over his shoulder to the giant mirror in the office.

Behind the looking glass, two sets of eyes were fixed onto him. With a clear throat, he continued to talk to the rest of his men and the orders that needed to be followed.

“What the fuck?” your voice was loud and hysterical. “What the actual fuck!?”

You threw the documents onto the coffee table and grabbed your phone. It felt heavy in your trembling hand and you took in a deep, shaky breath.

Jeno’s footsteps could be heard in the next room over. They thudded against the ground and came running towards you. He peeked in the room, glancing in to see what had you acting all crazy this early in the morning. His face turned into a grimace as he walked closer, catching sight of what you were clutching tightly.

“They know Jeno,” you whispered. “The Brotherhood knows. This was shoved under our front door. Someone slid it underneath the door last night.”

Your twin brother came over and opened the papers. It was a black-and-white photo of you dressed in your business suit and high heels, leaving the Lee Group’s main building in the heart of downtown. Your face was in focus, crystal clear. Not an inch or speck was covered up, providing a full, unobstructed view. And the bold text on the back of the photo read: “Who knew a stripper would be an executive at a legitimate business?”

“I also got this text on my burner phone from Yunho.” You handed your brother the burner you used to keep in contact with the guys. The cell phone screen glowed in the dim lighting and displayed the message.

“Let’s meet up in front of Lee Group’s building at noon.”

“How much do you want to bet it’s an ambush? This doesn’t feel right,” Jeno sighed and raked a hand through his dark, ruffled hair. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, groaning from his sleep. He shrugged. “No other way to know. Just go to the spot and meet them. They won’t do anything in broad daylight and in front of a legitimate business in the heart of downtown.”

“You better be right,” you said as you rose from the couch and made way to your room to get changed and prepare to venture out for the day.

“I will be,” Jeno said.

“Just have our guys stand ready. If shit hits the fan,” your eyes darkened and your stare darkened as the emotion seeping through your tone was chilling and ominous, “do what you need to do. I’ll take the blame for anything if I need to.”

The remainder of the morning consisted of a quick change in clothes, grabbing an early, small snack for the day and rushing over to the destination to meet with the two men. Leaving a little earlier, you planned your route and decided the best and fastest path to take. After arriving at the front doors to the Lee Group’s building, you scanned the area. People walking about their day-to-day lives; their hands busy holding shopping bags or on phones or shoved in their coat pockets. Nothing too unusual or out of place.

No one was suspicious at all.

As you checked the time on your watch, footsteps approaching, muffled and heavy, against the pavement could be heard. You turned and caught the pair of broad shoulders as the owners of the feet appeared from around the corner.

“So this is what our pretty Byeol looks like when she’s dressed and ready for work,” Yunho hummed softly when they stepped right up to the side of you. You felt yourself being watched—scanned over from top to bottom. He even let out an appreciative whistle.

Jongho stretched his lips upwards into a devilishly attractive smile. His mouth fell apart. “Well fuck, babe, if you looked this nice dressed like this every day, I’d come and pick you up to drive you here myself.”

“Please tell me that the two of you didn’t call me out in the middle of my day for your sappy pickup lines,” you deadpanned as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are we just going to talk in front of your company’s main doors like this?” Yunho asked, scratching the base of his skull, glancing at Jongho. He flicked his wrist in the air, gesturing. “Don’t want any problems or issues.”

“Fine,” you breathed out a deep sigh that you didn’t know that you were holding in. “Try anything funny and I will take both of you out faster than you can even blink.”

“Feisty,” Jongho grinned as he followed you. “Where was this firecracker when we fucked? She never came out during our time in the bedroom.”

You ignored him as you turned on your heel, the sounds of your high heels clicking against the cement as you walked towards the front lobby. Walking into the building, you hear a chorus of greetings from the employees of the company going about their workday. Many people were standing about and chattering excitedly, happy that the weather was looking sunny today and most likely would stay for the remainder of the afternoon.

“Didn’t know that you were a respectable member of society,” Yunho mused, still surveying the facility and observing his environment, letting the information sink in. “Working corporate and dressed to impress. Looks like Byeol has been holding back a lot more secrets than we think.”

The three of you arrived in your office and you closed the blinds. Pulling down the shades on the glass, blocking the view to and from inside, you spun around to face the men, who sat in the two seats in the room.

Jongho looked relaxed. His left leg was swung over his knee and his arms rested behind him, creating a bulging mass of muscle against his frame. Yunho seemed to be a lot less relaxed. He was studying you more closely. Every last facial gesture, expression and twitch were not unnoticed.

“So Byeol, if that is your real name, who are you exactly?” Yunho asked cooly as he narrowed his gaze at you. His jaw was set tight, lips pursed together, pressed hard in a tight line. “From what we can tell, you’re not just some high-class stripper.”

“Why don’t you tell us who you are instead?” Jongho sat straighter as he propped his ankle onto his knee and watched you pace around the office, pausing to stand before a painting or picture on the wall. “Now that we think about it, there are so many things we still haven’t figured out about you.”

“Lee Y/N,” you mutter. “My name is Lee Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, explain all of this,” he gestured towards the scenery behind him. “This life.”

“Why?” You sank into your office chair, staring at him. “So the Brotherhood can kill me just like you did my father?”

“What?” Jongho snapped his head straight, attention turning towards you. “The fuck you talking about?”

“Don’t you guys dare act stupid and pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about,” you growled and scowled at the two. “I’ve known for years about the Brotherhood of Ateez and you know everything about the Lee Group. You had Lee Wooseok, my father, killed!”

“No,” Yunho shook his head. He stated firmly, his eyes shifting over to his friend. Both of them stood up from the chairs. “I would remember if we had a hit on Lee Wooseok.”

“Forgive me for not believing your crap!” You exclaimed. You gripped the armrests of the seat tighter until your knuckles had turned white, digging into the fabric.

“Hold the fuck on,” Jongho pulled out the phone and punched a few keys on the screen. Bringing it up to his ear, he placed a call. His eyes darted up and down the length of the entire space of the room, to the walls, to the ceiling, to your direction. He flipped around and spoke low, just low enough for the other party to understand the context of his request. His eyes settled directly on you as Jongho was quiet, taking in the information on the other end. “I understand. We’ll be there shortly.”

“We are having a discussion tonight with our group about what you’ve said,” he clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times and relaxed the muscles around his neck. “They want you and your brother to join and talk to us as we try to sort everything out.”

“And what if it’s a trap?” You eyed both of them. “If I turn up there, your leader’s number one hitter will have an easy shot and take me out.”

“No one will touch you. You have my word. And his,” Yunho reassured.

You stayed silent for a few beats. Eyes falling shut, you nodded and allowed your pupils to flutter open.

“If anything happens, I’ll wipe you out myself,” you shifted your gaze from the one across from you, over to your current boy toy, nodding firmly. “When and where?”

“Now,” Yunho said as he shifted himself up out of his seat and headed towards the exit. “Tell your brother.”

Although Jeno wanted to beat up the two men that stood beside you, you insisted and told him that it wasn’t the time to engage, not yet, at least. There wasn’t enough proof or information. You both needed to know more, needed to learn as much as you could to piece things together and conclude on your next move.

Upon reaching the Brotherhood’s headquarters, your brother was appraising the surroundings, calculating potential escape routes and thinking up plans in case things became unfavorable. You knew that expression very well: his lips were pressed tight, frowning, and his dark brows were pushed close to each other. He was clearly displeased and upset. You knew he wanted blood, but there was nothing he could do until you gave the go ahead.

“In there,” Yunho said, pushing the heavy oak door leading to the chamber where the rest were waiting.

All eyes were on you. With your brother at your side, your lips pursed tightly and eyes darkened. You straightened up and stepped forward with purposeful strides. No signs of weakness. Not anymore.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee. Miss Lee.” The young head of the organization greeted. Hongjoong glanced at you before standing up and coming over to you, grabbing onto your hand and shaking it firmly. His hand released its hold and gestured for everyone in the room to take their seats. Once everyone reclaimed their spots in their places on the long, hardwood table, the head started. “Don’t worry. No one will touch you here.”

“Look, you can save your pleasantries and get to the point,” Jeno sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Just explain what is going on.”

“My father and yours were good friends,” Hongjoong continued, leaning forwards to prop his arms on the surface in front of him. “Yes, the Lee Group remained neutral and was a valuable source of intel in our wars and territory. However, your family also has another value, don’t you see?”

Your brother looked at the gang boss questioningly.

“Lee Wooseok was an entrepreneur that loved his family deeply. Very deeply,” Hongjoong elaborated further. The leader’s lips tilted upwards and turned into a small smile. “The old man was someone who truly wanted a safe life for the two of you. He would never have wanted you two to follow the path of his and our lives.”

“What are you...” You started.

Hongjoong continued, nodding at Wooyoung as the rookie moved to grab the file he held tucked under his arm. The brown folder slid across the hardwood table until it rested in your lap. He spoke the words that would change your world. “Your father’s alive.”

Your head lifted up.

“What?” Jeno inquired, a confused expression clouding his features. “But we saw his corpse.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That was a cover-up by us, the Brotherhood. Your father knew that he had a hit on him, so he devised a plan: faking his death and staying hidden, lying in low profile.”

“For the last ten years?” You gasped, fingers grazing the edge of the brown folder. You couldn’t move. No strength in your body remained to flip the front open.

“Yes,” Hongjoong spoke as he took his seat again. His eyes gleamed and danced, something reflecting. “Open the file.”

The papers rustled. There was an image paper-clipped to the corner and the minute your eyes fell upon the visage, your throat tightened, caught in a hard lump as a few droplets formed. The moment you touched them, the tears clung to your fingers, and you swore your heart stopped.

You whispered and breathed, “Dad.”

Your father was still handsome. His hair was greying and strands had streaks of grey in it. And his eyes had aged, those old eyes with crinkles, showcasing his joy, his sorrow. But it was him. Lee Wooseok was truly alive, and it felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

It had been ages since you felt this, a warm sensation filling your chest cavity. You had never felt lighter—liberated—from these invisible shackles.

After a quick scan through the photos and reports in the envelope, you flipped the manila folder closed and latched the cover shut. You sighed as your brows furrowed. “When can I meet him?”

“Business first,” Hongjoong said as he watched your reaction closely.

“What kind of business?” Jeno asked, brows knitting.

“You joined the Butterfly Syndicate because they told you that we were the ones behind your father’s death,” Hongjoong explained. “Told you that we were the ones responsible and promised to help get revenge?”

“Yes,” you nodded in affirmation.

“They tricked you. The Butterflies are the ones behind Lee Wooseok’s hit.”

“Wait a minute,” the younger twin furrowed his brows. He was shocked at hearing the words from the leader’s own lips and a cold sweat broke through, coating his skin. “Are you sure it’s the Butterflies that did this? How?”

“Your father can tell you the details when you finally reunite,” the leader stated, voice firm and resolute, leaving little doubt in the statement. “Since you are both high-ranked members of the Butterfly Syndicate, you would have important information and intel on the trade deals and such.”

“So,” your eyes locked into place with his. “You want me to continue working on this and supply you with the necessary intelligence, right? So you can infiltrate the organization? Are you saying that the Lee’s can help the Brotherhood take them down and bring them to its fall? If that’s your goal, I have no issues with it.”

“My father always hated that company, so I hate them even more,” Jeno said, running a hand through his short hair. His arms crossed over his wide chest. “You’ll offer us protection and help? The Butterflies aren’t going to let this go if we defect.”

“Oh we know,” Hongjoong smirked back. “But the Brotherhood can ensure your protection and safety from their wrath. No one will lay a hand on either of you two.”

“Jeno?” You looked at your twin brother.

“Can we...meet our dad first?” He asked carefully as his eyes met yours and flicked towards Hongjoong, questioning. “And after that, we can discuss?”

Hongjoong nodded and, with a small nod, one man got up and stepped out. A few seconds later, a familiar figure filled the room with his presence, strolling in with a grin and twinkling eyes. The moment your eyes landed on the individual, tears began to form again.

“Dad,” you choked out before springing up and crossing the room to leap at him. Tackling him with a hug, you found yourself burying your nose deep into his collar and breathing him in. “Dad!”

Jeno was at your side, piling on with an embrace. His eyes screwed shut and squeezed out the water. Your father clutched the two of you tightly and wrapped you both in a bear hug. The man sniffled before laughing warmly and softly.

“My babies aren’t babies anymore.” He released his hold on the pair of you. Hands coming to cup both of your cheeks, his thumb brushed away the tears clinging to the surfaces of your eyelids. “My children, I missed you so much.”

With your father returned and the reunion complete, all matters were settled and agreed. It would take a few days, but your loyalties had changed to the Brotherhood, and you would supply what they needed.

This meeting ended successfully for both sides, but things could only be set in motion and could not be changed now that the ball had been set in motion.

The Brotherhood had offered you and Jeno places to stay since the Butterfly Syndicate knew where your residence was. In their words, it would be unwise and stupid to return after switching sides, especially with the secrets you now carried. However, with no way and money or anything other than a duffel bag for the both of you, you had no other options. You agreed with Hongjoong’s statements and, for now, would reside in the guest rooms in their house.

One night, Yunho and Jongho invited you to their penthouse suite that they lived in, minutes away from headquarters. Standing at their door, the heat rose from your abdomen and heated your chest as you hesitated before finally gathering enough courage to give the knock and let them know of your presence. Hearing the footsteps, the shuffle of shoes on the tile floor could be heard from the other end, causing your muscles to stiffen as anticipation and nervousness dripped through your veins like thick, poisonous venom.

The lock clicked. Then the knob turned. It gave way as the door cracked and opened up. The tall, broad, dark-haired man appeared in the opening. “Come in,” he said, gesturing for you to enter. You nodded as the greeting and stepped past.

“Get here okay?” Yunho leaned his entire body against the surface of the front entrance. A quizzical expression washed over his face. His arms were folded, his shoulder blades squaring the breadth and strength of his torso.

“Yeah. Seonghwa dropped me off,” you looked around the suite and noticed Jongho gesturing at you to join him on the couch.

“Now sit down,” Jongho settled on the couch and popped open a can of beer, offering you one. You shook your head. “Y/N, you look so fucking stressed right now. Chill.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” you sighed as your shoulders drooped. Head hanging low, eyes cast downward, you could feel his body heat grow as his feet brought his long legs closer and closer towards your form.

“A lot happened and you just need to relax. De-stress,” his hand came to lift your chin.

“He has a point,” Yunho chipped in, standing behind you from your spot on the couch. His long fingers and firm hands danced along the collar of your blouse, flicking open one button and exposing some flesh. The shirt hung slightly off your shoulders, enough to give a small tease.

Your breath hitched. Yunho’s fingers were grazing along the line of your bra strap, running his thumbs across the silky smooth material. A sigh slipped through your lips and a slight shiver rolled from your toes and up, coursing through your legs.

“I know,” your voice came out weak as the heat stirred in the pit of your stomach, heating between your thighs. “It’s just... learning that dad was alive this whole time, being tricked by the Syndicate. I just hate myself so much and feel like an idiot.”

“Yeah. It’s an enormous shock,” Jongho said. “But at least you know the truth and that you got your father back.”

“He’s alive, and he’s well,” Yunho hummed softly. You tilted your head back, making contact with the solid frame of the large, dark-haired guy standing behind you. And fuck was he towering.

Yunho chuckled, placing a passionate kiss onto your neck, trailing them across your collar bones and then diving right back up. He held the column of your throat between his forefinger and his thumb. “So pretty.”

“I do wonder though...” Jongho tucked a strand of hair behind your ears. He tilted your face upwards so he could look directly into your eyes. He peered deeper. “Did you actually enjoy the sex? Was it just part of the job and mission to collect intel on us?”

“Be honest,” Yunho spoke up. He had started moving again. His chest was rising and falling slowly. “Do you have even an ounce of feelings for us?”

“It started out that way,” you bit the inner walls of your cheek and chose your words carefully. “Fucking you for intel... My loyalty to the Butterfly Syndicate was strong. But as the days turned to weeks, the nights continued, the conversations in the bed... they shifted. I really enjoyed talking and more so... just being with you guys.”

You leaned into Jongho’s palm, gazing up into the other man’s face. You pressed a delicate, sincere kiss in the middle of his wide hand. “You two made it impossible to not have any sort of attachment.”

Yunho’s palms skimmed over your thighs, massaging gently. Fingers nimbly toyed, tapping against your muscles. There were tiny sparks firing off, the reaction caused the butterflies that were sleeping in your belly to stir awake. The insects roused, taking flight and they fluttered, wings rapidly flapping.

“Would it ease the guilt and uneasiness that you feel,” Yunho’s expression turned thoughtful as his eyes bore into you, looking into the depths, “if we let you know that the feeling is mutual, sweet girl?”

Jongho caressed your cheek before slipping his arm and wrapped it around your waist. He nuzzled his nose, nipping at your ear lobe. “It’s not the ideal situation for any of us, but regardless, we genuinely liked hanging out and fucking around.”

Jongho tapped his fingertips on your shoulder blades. A few low chuckles escaped him. His next sentence flowed slowly, lingering around you like a faint, heavy fog. “Fuck the Butterfly Syndicate’s plans, yeah?”

Yunho trailed a finger between the valley of your breasts and stopped teasing. A brief smirk showed itself for a split second. His features were relaxed, as if the whole discussion wasn’t about destroying and eliminating entire syndicates and you weren’t the key component to the entire puzzle and destruction.

Yunho’s palm returned to your cheek as his fingers hooked under your chin. His thumb rubbed your lower lip as his voice dropped, quiet, but firm. “Tonight, let’s just forget that we’re anything else. No more underworld agenda. We’re just three people that are enjoying each other’s bodies, right?”

“No expectations,” Jongho whispered, grazing your lip against the pad of his thumb.

“No pretense,” Yunho smirked.

The pair’s hands slipped beneath your clothing and lifted it off. Piece by piece, the material came loose and discarded somewhere in the penthouse suite. Soft pants escaped your lungs. And with a satisfied exhale, Jongho tipped your chin, smothering his lips against yours, the smooth cushions melding against your skin. His tongue ran against the opening, his taste buds swirling the seams. A hand stroked the outline of your neck and cupped the tender surface.

“Let go of every worry that is plaguing your pretty little head tonight, darling,” Yunho whispered softly against the space behind your ear. You whimpered when his mouth parted, sucking and pressing the curve of his full bottom lip. “Leave the world, the fears, the worries, the obligations, the past, everything outside these doors, because right now, sweetheart, it’s just going to be me and Jongho taking care of you. Can you be a good girl for us?”

Another whine slipped from your parted lips and into the space between.

“Yeah. That’s it. Good girl,” the sound of approval rumbled against the flat plain of your back, reverberating as a heat settled in. “Just focus on making yourself feel good.”

A hot mouth connected to your collarbones, mouthing, leaving behind wet imprints and soft trails with a nip. It didn’t take long for it to move and track up your jawline, pressing against the column and taking a few licks along your throat.

Two sets of mouths connected to each section of bare skin and their touch lit a fire under your skin. Two more sets of hands skimmed, fingers pinching, rolling and twirling the hard buds on your nipples. A set of warm, plump lips latched onto one and gave it a harsh suck, a groan escaping as their taste buds rolled it, teasingly nibbling on the sensitive tip.

“Y/N,” Yunho’s masculine voice purred your name like velvet, his warm, calloused palms dancing a trail, a series of tingles being left behind and lingering. “How do you want it? Slow or do you want rough? Or maybe you want both? Yeah, I think you want both. We’re willing to do anything you want.”

Jongho looked straight into your eyes, making eye contact, piercing your soul through with his beautiful dark eyes. “After all, we can give it all to you.”

Dropping his pants, Yunho stood up from the sofa. “Open up for me, pretty girl.”

You did as he instructed and felt the press of the thick head pushing against your lips, waiting. His hands were on either side of your face, thumbs trailing the edges. “Wrap your pretty little lips on my cock and take all of it, darling.”

A hum of arousal and lust slipped between your parted lips as your hands slid across his trim hips. Yunho’s fingers sank into the messy locks as you rolled and flicked your tongue along the hardened head and smoothed the ridge. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He tugged you close, so his erection was deep inside. The thick shaft filled your mouth, pressing against your cheek, gagging. Your head bobbed, the saliva pooling around and staining your mouth. Tongue gliding up the surface as you flattened the muscle.

“I’m going to have you on your knees more often. This view is incredible. Damn. Perfect,” he hissed between his teeth, exhaling a large breath. “Eyes up at me, angel.”

You didn’t even know when Jongho laid on the floor, his face settled under you. Large palms spread across your ass and down your thighs, pulling your center right over his mouth. Lashes flickered as his thick tongue dipped deep. In an instant, you moaned around Yunho.

“Tastes good, doesn’t it, little one?” Yunho asked. You nodded, murmuring an “mmhm” around his cock. “His tongue is amazing, isn’t it? So amazing at working you out, hm?”

Jongho swirled and flicked the slick muscle, finding the swollen nub and latched his mouth, sucking and releasing repeatedly. Another deep groan sounded. It didn’t take long before you squirmed, grinding your pussy on Jongho’s mouth, whimpering around Yunho.

“Ah, so damn delicious,” a smirk crossed Jongho’s lips. “Juicy and so hot, I could eat out this little pussy all night.”

A brush of a finger on your anus and a slippery digit pushed inside as another penetrated your dripping slit.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Jongho sounded amused, and the praise mixed in with the string of vulgar words was enough to light a fire and a wetness under your core.

“God, your noises are fucking exquisite,” Yunho’s palms skated to your face, hooking a few stray strands behind your ears. His thumb toyed with your lower lip and swiped along the corner.��Tell me how you're feeling, sweet girl.”

His cock fell from your lips. You wrapped a hand around the girth and stared up into his brown orbs, blowing a hot, ragged breath. “Good. So damn fucking good.”

“Tell Jongho how it is, angel,” a simple command. “He wants to know.”

“Don’t stop,” you demanded breathlessly. The room was spinning. But you were far from caring. You were rocking against his digits and the motions as your forehead rested on Yunho’s thigh. A roll of a thrust, a quick stretch of his knuckles. “Just fucking make me cum on your lips and your fingers, fucker. Please.”

“Mmmm...yeah. Keep asking nicely like that, pretty girl,” the pads of his digits were curling. There was a chuckle as you heard the sound of his sloppy slurping, followed by a lewd, sloppy smack. “Your cunt is gripping me tight. Come undone already and soak my face, sugar. Stop fighting and cum like the slut that you are.”

“Sweetheart, your mouth,” Yunho cooed softly. “Open it again for me.”

With half lidded, glossed eyes, you met Yunho’s gaze before you obediently did so and received the thick weight back on the hot cavern. He laced the strands between his fingers.

“Ah,” the softest chuckle fell as the corners of his pinkish lips pulled upwards. “Swallow all of it. This is what you deserve for being a good girl. I’ll reward you. Promise.”

Yunho held your chin still, palm resting under it, steadying your movements and the angle and guiding the movements. His own lips parted, grunting at the sensation. Fingers thrusted with a gentle force and curled once again, finding the spongy part and rubbing as the pad flicked.

“Are you about to come undone, sweet girl?” Jongho shushed softly, with a light whisper against the inner parts of your thighs, pressing a kiss there. His face was nuzzling there, dragging his open mouth along your heated skin. “Don’t hold back. I know your pretty little pussy can give me more to drink.”

“Such a good girl.” Yunho thumbed across the sides of your face and caressed it gently. He gripped his shaft and pumped the shaft a couple times. The liquid beading on the head of his cock swirled on the tongue, a deep moan as he tasted himself. “Such a pretty fucking mouth. Take your reward, darling. Every single last drop.”

Hands gripped tightly and tugged on the locks of hair. He held you firmly in place. Cursing, Yunho’s muscles quivered. You massaged the head with the flat surface of your tongue and let the liquid spill and spill inside your hot mouth. You let your tongue caress his length, catching every single drop, all the while Jongho thrusted his hand, curled his fingers and used his mouth and tongue to push you over the edge.

The orgasm rolled through, taking over your body. You held on to Yunho, hands reaching for the exposed parts of his upper body, desperate for stability as your hips bucked erratically, uncontrollably and rode out your high on his hand and lips. Your mind was screaming and your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. There was no other thought process going on except, yes, yes, yes.

Yunho crouched in front of you and caught you as you toppled forward.

“Come on, baby girl,” you whined against the hard surface of his body, “we’re just getting started, sugar. You’re doing good.”

Picking you up, Yunho tossed you easily onto the bed, like you weighed nothing. It wasn’t rough, but it was a motion that said that they were in control. Jongho walked into your peripheral vision, stark naked and looking gorgeous. His body was gorgeous. How someone had the physique, the hard work, and discipline.

A groan ripped from your lips as Jongho climbed onto the sheets beside you and nudged your hips. “Straddle me, sugar. My dick can’t wait anymore and neither can I.”

Your pussy lips grazed the length and his head teased and pressed against your clit as you rotate your hips and rolled your spine. Hands pressed on the planes of Jongho’s hard, sculpted pecs, gripping the rigid muscles. Leaning forward, you put one hand on his stomach to steady yourself and, with the other, you gripped his base and slid down onto the shaft in one quick motion.

You met his gaze and whispered huskily, “Neither can I.”

Both hands pressed firmly against the abdominal muscles and leaned back. Spine arched, head resting against the mattress, you rode Jongho as Yunho settled himself between your legs behind you.

“Such a nice pussy. The view is perfect,” planting his palm in the center of your chest and over your breast, Yunho captured your lips with his. Nipping the underside of the curve and peppering a few kisses there. Palms groping and kneading the globe as a thumb grazed a pert nipple. “Can you take me too, sweet thing? Let me fill your ass as you ride our boy here?”

“Yes please, sir.” Your mind was dazed and in pure ecstasy. And Yunho took care to make you feel good.

Yunho shifted your weight until you were face down into Jongho’s neck and shoulder, Jongho’s muscled arms wrapping protectively around you. “You’re going to need to hang onto Jongho, doll. You’re going to need him while I fill that beautiful ass.” His fingertip trailed a line starting from the space right below your neck and to where the spine ended.

Your pelvis ground onto Jongho’s as his hands cradled you and held you tight to his body. It wasn’t as if you had never had anal sex before with the two of them. No, not at all. You had done it plenty of times, more so with Jongho since Yunho was well, packing some size and there was only so much you could handle.

It didn’t take long before you heard the lid click and the bottle pop open. You felt the lube drip, cool and slick, between your round ass cheeks and down the valley to where both men were filling your openings. Yunho took his sweet, slow, torturous time, teasing you with the head of his cock, parting and spreading the cheeks and running the length between. You turned your head slightly to watch him over your shoulder and sighed in relief and content when his girth finally penetrated your walls.

With one palm gripping your waist, fingers splayed, Yunho guided his thick cock further. With the other hand, he soothed a firm hand up your back, the weight feeling relaxing and calming your nerves, reassuring that you were okay. The curve of his body dipped down, allowing his mouth to reach and capture your lips, sucking, nibbling.

“Fuck, baby. Your ass takes me so well, damn it,” he breathed, tugging your hair, releasing, letting it fall as his teeth caught his full bottom lip. “Gonna fill you so much until your body can’t handle it anymore.”

“So full...” Your face burrowed in the space between Jongho’s shoulders, against the dip as his own neck. Your palms pressed against his chest, fingertips grasping at his warm, sweaty skin. “Need a second...to adjust.”

“We gotcha, sweetheart,” Yunho placed a gentle kiss along your spine, not moving yet. He helped the angle by keeping you bent over Jongho. “Relax. We’re right here.”

You felt the slight burning and fullness. Once the stretching was complete, you were okay. Lifting your lower half up, the movement caused your pussy to slide onto Jongho, and that immediately did the trick. Once it started, Yunho filled your asshole up completely.

The action made the men groan at the feeling. Their pleasure at having both your holes filled was evident.

“Move, move, move,” you breathed roughly, clawing Jongho’s pectoral muscles as you reached your mouth up to find his and a tongue quickly found entrance. They found their rhythm. The sound of slaps and sticky, squishy sounds filled the air.

“Atta girl,” Yunho mumbled a mixture of praise. He grunted and fisted a clump of your hair, tugging your face back until your chest arched out. “Yeah, this is what you wanted, is it? Talk to us, pretty girl.”

“Love having you guys stuffing me,” you gasped when Yunho pumped in, forcing your back to arch even more. A stream of whimpers were heard, almost like a song playing repeatedly. The friction was just too damn delicious. “Both of you are stretching and fucking me. Please. I’m yours. Both of you.”

The praise continued, getting louder and dirty.

“I need you guys to keep pounding into me,” you were chanting like a mantra. “Wreck my pretty holes. Pound me as I cum on your fat, massive cocks.”

“And we love giving it to you, angel. Filling you with us until you’re spilling all over,” Yunho mumbled his words directly at the shell of your ear. “Over and over. Until we fill up every single damn part.”

Jongho was meeting your hips, pumping at the same pace and speed as Yunho. There was no room to slide in between the pair. The pair was stuffed into both of your crevices and hitting all the right spots that drove you mad; the tingling became a raging heat.

“Close,” a muffled noise fell, breaking from your throat. Your mouth was parted, the lips dried and swollen.

“Be a good girl and come on our cocks,” Jongho pressed a chaste, close mouth peck against your cheek and murmured in a sultry voice. “Soak it, baby. Do it now.”

And you did exactly that.

Your mind turned white with only one name being thought repeatedly, with no other thing being thought about. All you heard were the satisfied groans of the men that were taking their pleasure in your body. Their bodies jerked with their orgasms as both Yunho and Jongho poured everything into your pussy and into your ass.

You swore you saw heaven, bliss, whatever word would describe a paradise or utopia. And fuck, it felt so amazing, so damn glorious. You were in bliss as you felt the warmness from the men. Their lips were tracing lines down your neck as the rest of your body went limp against them. They whispered words of encouragement, whispers of getting married, but it sounded so far away.

Your eyes slipped shut, not sure how many seconds later, maybe a handful, and fell into a deep slumber.

With the combination of sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes and your eyes opening, there was a groan as you attempted to rub the tiredness away with the back of your hand. And regret was the very first thought. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You never fell asleep when having sex with the two men. That wasn’t something you’d normally do.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Trying to get up, your body aching from head to toe, you found yourself incapable. Bare and still feeling so sticky, a sheet was tangled around your body as two male forms were under the same piece of material and trapped between their limbs, an arm and a leg secured in their grips.

In a low tone, it was nearly a murmur, but deep and rough, Yunho spoke, pressing a kiss against your exposed, heated collarbones.

“Too sore, baby girl?” You met his brown eyes and bit your lip, nodding slowly, followed by a confirming hum. “Did you sleep well?”

“I... yeah... I guess. Wasn’t supposed to...” you stuttered a little, not quite finishing the sentence and dropping your gaze, embarrassed. “I never fall asleep...”

Yunho gently gripped your chin and gave you a proper good morning kiss on the lips, deepening it slightly before pulling away and ending it. A palm trailed your side and smoothed across the naked skin. “First time for everything, hm?”

Jongho stirred and mumbled groggily from somewhere underneath the blanket and an arm rested right above your breast, “Don’t leave the bed. We’ll do everything. Breakfast, bath, the lot. But stay in bed and rest.”

Your cheeks heated. This was awkward. Normally, the two men wouldn’t want you lingering and getting comfortable because business always called, and they both had an obligation to attend.

“About that,” Yunho mused and shifted onto the mattress. He curled around your form and had you resting your head against his arm, fingers skating patterns and tracing lines against the dip at your waist, drawing invisible lines. “We were going to talk about it.”

“Jongho and I were thinking...” Yunho nudged, glancing towards the young man and began chewing the bottom lip. “That after...”

He was hesitating. You didn’t quite understand why. He wasn’t the type of person to get nervous.

“What happens afterwards?” Yunho asked. “How would you feel, staying in bed, staying the weekend, or the week, and having us... taking care of you?”

Your eyes widened and glanced towards both men. “Are you sure? What would my dad say?”

Jongho gave a low grunt, nuzzling between your shoulders, lifting his head, and peppered a small, fleeting kiss. “Nothing. He would be thrilled that we were giving you whatever you need.”

“I don’t have my clothes. Nothing with me,” your breathing hitched.

“Don’t worry, angel, we have you covered. We’ll get you whatever you want,” Yunho remarked softly. He scooted in closer and intertwined his free hand, his left, with yours. There was a shine, a metal circling on his ring finger. A quick look downwards and Jongho had the same on him, matching the band of gold with his.

Both Yunho and Jongho didn’t have it before. Where did they get these?

Then you noticed the glint on your left ring finger. Gold with small diamonds set in a thin band and a black gem in the middle.

Your head shot right back upward and back and forth between the two men.

Yunho said it the next, a chuckle, soft, genuine, lacing his deep, melodic, soothing tone. “You didn’t say no when we asked you last night.”

You shook your head furiously. You hadn’t even heard. Too caught up in your high. “I wasn’t in... wasn’t in the right state of mind last night.”

“Willing to agree now?” The smile was playful and warm, softening Jongho’s face. The tone was teasing but hopeful. His thumb brushed against the warm, soft skin on your own.

Yunho leaned in closer, warm breath dusting over the surface of your lips, nose dragging across the top of yours, “Not the way we were dreaming of asking you officially.”

“As a married throuple, you’ll have two husbands that will help you fight against the Butterfly Syndicate, sweetheart.” His mouth slid over yours, swallowing a moan, and it was loving, and deep, and all-consuming, making your toes curl into the soft comforter under your bodies. He slowly eased his body weight on top of you as he took over and set a leisure and slow pace of languid strokes. “Husbands to keep you safe, husbands to always satisfy and fulfill any need. Husbands to get back at your enemies.”

Your mouth was still locked against his, Yunho’s tongue licking deep. You pressed your forehead against his temple and his hand slid even lower.

“So what do you say, hm?” Jongho lifted his head slightly to whisper, a glint dancing in the brown pools. “Can we officially call you our wife?”

Widening your eyes, you searched and met the gazes of both men and felt their hands clutching yours, almost scared that you would say no.

How could you say no when their hands and body made you feel like a queen, a woman adored and protected? A soft gasp spilled. How could you say no when their dark, cold eyes promised to bring your vengeance against those that hurt you and your family? You didn’t need to hold back when you were with them and in their care.

“Yes...” You turned and faced each of them. You would do this, together, with them. You swallowed your fears. “Let's get married.”

You were going to fight back. You were done hiding and turning away, hiding in the shadows.

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ajmasch · 1 month ago

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@here4hualian kissmas day 4: indirect kiss

Xie Lian flopped down on the bed, exhausted, ignoring the way the sudden impact sent clouds of dirt flying off of him. He needed a bath, he needed sleep, but before any of that…

He placed two fingers against his head. “San Lang?”

The reply was instant. “Gege! This San Lang was beginning to worry he’d never hear your voice again!”

Despite his exhaustion, his husband never failed to draw a laugh from Xie Lian. “San Lang, I’ve only been gone for a day.”

“And this poor husband has been wasting away in your absence the entire time,” Hua Cheng complained dramatically. “I pray my beloved will return to me soon?”

Xie Lian sighed. “I’m sorry, San Lang, it looks like I’ll be away a little longer than anticipated. The spirit itself wasn’t too much trouble, but he managed to gather somewhat of a following, I think he was trying to copy Qi Rong–”

“Trash,” Hua Cheng interjected, bringing a smile to Xie Lian’s face.

“Yes, well, it’s just taking a bit to make sure we’ve cleared out the whole operation. Hopefully only a couple more days at most, but…”

“Need any help?”

Gods did Xie Lian want to say yes. As much as he teased Hua Cheng earlier, he felt the same ache at being separated from his husband. He wanted nothing more than to fall into Hua Cheng’s arms, but he knew he couldn’t.

“We’re supposed to be proving we can keep our relationship separate from Heavenly business,” he reminded Hua Cheng.

“Hmph,” Hua Cheng grunted. He had made his position on the matter very clear from the start, he thought it was a stupid policy. Honestly, Xie Lian kind of agreed, but he could see why there would be some hesitation about allowing a Calamity to be involved with the Heavens after everything that was revealed about the former Emperor.

“Never mind that. Would you just… tell me about your day? I miss you.” His cheeks heated up as he admitted it even though the only one who heard was Hua Cheng, who said that type of stuff all the time.

“Of course, Gege.” The softness in Hua Cheng’s voice as he replied left a fuzzy feeling in Xie Lian’s chest that continued as he began to narrate his day. Xie Lian sighed in contentment and settled down to listen to his husband speak. He closed his eyes and let Hua Cheng’s voice wash over him, imagining he was at home in their bed, and that any minute now he would feel the comforting weight of another person beside him.

That weight never came. Struck by the urge to feel as close to Hua Cheng as possible, Xie Lian found his hand reaching for the ring of ashes that lay against his chest. He lifted it up and pressed it to his lips, wishing he could be kissing his husband instead. To his surprise, at that moment, Hua Cheng stumbled over his words.

“Gege? Did you just… do something?”

Xie Lian’s face was surely red. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know San Lang would be able to feel that, haha…”

“Do it again.” Xie Lian didn’t know it was possible to sound breathless over a communication array, but Hua Cheng managed it somehow. He lifted the ring again and pressed another kiss to the smooth surface.

“Gege…”

“What does it feel like?” Xie Lian asked curiously.

“It’s like… It’s like when we exchange spiritual power, except it’s emotions. I can tell they’re not mine, but I feel them so strongly, whatever Gege is feeling.”

“Oh? So then…” Xie Lian focused on Hua Cheng. His San Lang. Every emotion he had about his husband, all the love he could possibly manage to hold, and he pressed it into the ashes. He heard Hua Cheng gasp through the spiritual array, then nothing.

“...San Lang?”

“Gege… really will be the death of me.” Hua Cheng’s voice sounded wrecked, as if he were barely holding himself back from tears.

“San Lang deserves to know how much I love him,” Xie Lian replied.

“I love you too, Gege.” Xie Lian’s smile turned into a yawn that Hua Cheng clearly heard over the array, because he chuckled and said, “You should get some sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

“Sing for me?” Xie Lian requested.

“Of course.” Xie Lian drifted off to the sound of his husband’s voice, holding his ashes tightly and trying to convey as much love as he could through that connection until he could do it in person again.

#merryhualiankissmas #tgcf #hualian #xie lian #hua cheng

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nimrahs · 1 month ago

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More Silly Excerpts from my Arcane High School AU

Jinx, holding up a mirror to Ekko’s face: Sooo what do you think?

Ekko: I actually like it more than I thought I would

Jinx: I KNEW IT! I told you earlier piercings would look good on you. You could’ve had this done YEARS ago

Ekko: Yeah, yeah, whatever

Jinx: So…would you be down to get matching tattoos next?

Ekko: NO. Isn’t that illegal anyways??? We’re underage

Jinx: I will not be bound by silly things such as laws. Just watch, I’ll wear you down just like I did with the piercings

Vi: Hi Caitlyn!

Caitlyn: Hello, Violet. Do you need anything?

Vi: Uhh I just wanted to ask you...uhhh how to graph linear equations?

Caitlyn: ...

Vi: ...

Caitlyn: You are aware that's grade 9 level math, right?

Vi: ...yeah well I failed grade 9 math twice, sue me

Caitlyn: *face slap*

Vi, who is in fact in Advanced Functions (because of Jinx's help) and just wanted an excuse to talk to Caitlyn: *shrugs*

Some random kid: Haha look at Viktor! Fucking cripple can barely walk.

Viktor: *death glare but doesn't say anything*

The next day

The police knocking on the kids door: Sir, we have reason to suspect your son for underage use and distribution of drugs

Viktor: *smirking*

Jinx: Okay Isha, when I say go I need you to run into the cafeteria and drop this in there, you're small enough so they won't notice you

Isha, nodding: *grabs the smoke bomb and makes a run for it, detonates it in the caf and runs back out to Jinx*

Jinx: *grabs Isha and runs out of the school*

Five minutes later

Jinx: Oh my phone is ringing, it's Ekko

Ekko: JINX. I'M COVERED IN PINK GLITTER, I KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SET THAT OFF IN THE CAFETERIA

Jinx: Well, technically it was Isha *giggles*

Ekko: ...WHY ARE YOU CORRUPTING ISHA

Isha, whose idea it was to set it off there in the first place: *laughing*

Jinx: *Hangs up on Ekko*

Mel: Jayce, I'm trying to fix my makeup can you not stand so close to me

Jayce who is like a foot away from Mel: ...okay...

Mel: You're still too close, move back a little

Jayce, getting confused: *moves back*

Mel: Farther

Jayce: Mel we're literally dating I do not need to be this far from you

Mel: Oh look there's Viktor, go annoy him *pushes Jayce towards Viktor*

Jayce, even more confused: ...Oookay then

Guys I swear I'll write more for this AU soon I just keep getting distracted with my other stuff (aka Part 2 of Whose Goddamn White Baby is That?) So here is this as a peace offering for now

#arcane #timebomb #jinx #ekko #caitvi #jayvik #jaymel #jayce arcane #jayce talis #mel medarda #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #isha arcane #jinx and isha #viktor arcane #high school au #league of legends #alternate universe

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verxsyon · 1 year ago

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·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐓? ❞

wriothesley always wins his bets against you. for this round, the stakes are getting much higher. how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings to the duke? will this be the moment you’ll finally come out victorious, even though you have to pretend that your feelings toward him are in denial?

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. wriothesley x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. drabble ; 0.6k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. coworkers to lovers au ; fluff

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. no way, it's almost been a year since i wrote a drabble and for genshin too. wrote this during class today, so it looks pretty rushed lol. this man’s the death of me. he can choke slam me like he did with douchier dougier in his story quest. and no, i’m not sorry for saying that.

A defeated sigh escapes your lips as your cards rain down from your fingers onto Wriothesley’s desk. “Unbelievable. A first-time TCG player beat me in all three rounds. So, what do you want your prize to be? A tea company from the surface?”

“Haha. Your suggestions are becoming more adventurous, captain.” Wriothesley kicks back on his chair with a great idea in mind from the smug smile on his face. “Meet me there at night. You’ll help me sneak in, and I’ll rob its entire collection.”

You narrow his eyes at his sarcasm, and he surrenders. “Alright. I'll settle with a tea cup set. The cups in my current one are broken and the teapot has some cracks, so it’ll be nice to have a new one.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order from the surface and ship it here.” You get up from your seat. “I must head back. The guards could be slacking off as we speak. Excuse me, your grace.”

“Ah, actually.” You hear the chair scrape the floor and turn to face him, who’s now leaning against the front of his desk. “Before you go, there’s something I need you to investigate.”

“Of course. what is it?” He stops you from coming back to your seat by his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch. His expression’s gone rather ominous, and it stays that way when he leans closer to your ear.

“How long will it take for the captain of the gardes to admit their feelings for the duke?”

You cough violently and push yourself out of his hold. Despite his claims of not being omnipotent, his eyes and ears are everywhere within and beyond the fortress. But why are you still surprised that he’ll find out your feelings toward him eventually?

“Don’t tell me you believe those rumors, your grace?” You boldly deny, but deep inside you already know he totally won’t buy your facade based on your immediate reaction. “I’m assuming that’s what you want me to investigate, so again, please excuse me—”

“You didn’t answer my question, captain.” His fingers glide to your shoulder, akin to caressing it, and the temperature in your cheeks suddenly skyrockets. “So, how long will it take for the captain of the gardes to—?”

“I heard you the first time, your grace,” you say dismissively, screaming at him in your head to let you go back to your station and never talk about this matter ever again. “With all due respect, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Come on. Don’t tell me you already forgot,” he laughs as he goes back to his seat, hands folded on top of his desk. “Wanna bet?”

“This again?” you huff, more worn out from his ludicrous habits since you were stationed at the fortress as its security team. However, this could be an opportunity for you to finally win against him. If he decides to play the game this way, then might as well follow along to ensure your own victory. “Fine, I’ll say never.”

“Oh? No faith in the duke’s capabilities to charm them?” He seems confident with the answer he has come up with. “I’ll say within the next hour or two.”

“Ha! Overestimating the captain’s willpower to not fall for his charms, I see,” you counter, showing off your determination to win. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Alright then, it’s settled.” He shakes hands with you to solidify the agreement. “Oh, and captain? No need for your suggestions for this one. I know what I want as my prize.”

“Oh? And what would that be, your grace?”

Wriothesley just chuckles and tells you the most unpredictable thing that you never imagine being your fate as a loser. “How about a date with the captain themselves?”

#✦ .fics #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley drabbles #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley scenarios #wriothesley fluff

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raffe156 · 17 days ago

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Breakaway State Part 6

Pairing - Price X Female OC “Tank”

Summary - Finally, finally, finally

This one is a little dark towards the end, Not much of Price but this is the bridge chapter for what’s to come an I’m so thankful for all those who have waited patiently I love you all.

Warnings -17+ Angst. Language, Age gap Price (38) Tank (26), Violence, abuse, abuse of power, controlling behaviour, injury, implied torture, death.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank, Luke, Dredd, Mckinley, Crest and Falkirk.

“Thank fuck for that…” Mckinley’s laugh echoed through the van as it pulled away from the base. He turned in his seat, trying to catch your eye, but you only gave him a brief glance before turning to take one last look at the place you were leaving behind. You spotted Kyle just as the van rounded the corner—he would understand.

Once you were on the road, Mckinley couldn’t help himself.

“I hope you lot realize how good you have it,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

The van stayed quiet.

“Don’t any of you get any ideas about wearing a Halloween mask, either. I’ll shut that shit down before it starts… I’m looking at you, Dredd…” Mckinley chuckled, but the others remained silent. The lack of response was like a cold slap, and you could see it was starting to eat at him. No one found him funny, and it irritated him. Unfortunately for you, you were right in his line of sight. A nasty grin crept across his face.

“You going to sort things out with your fella before we head out?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, watching for your reaction.

“Nothing to sort out…” you muttered, knowing exactly who he meant—Luke. You kept your eyes glued to the window, hoping he’d drop it.

“Haha, yeah right. There’s plenty to sort out. From what I hear, he’s playing the field while you’re off fighting in it. But then again, you’re not entirely innocent, are you? Little sleepovers with Price, weekends away with him. Dirty dog.” Mckinley shook his head, clearly enjoying himself.

You could feel the tension in the van rise, and it wasn’t just McKinley—everyone was listening now. You felt Dredd shift behind you, ready to jump in.

“Weekends away?” Crest’s voice cut through the tension, his head raising slightly, his interest piqued.

McKinley smirked triumphantly, like a predator who’d just caught its prey. “Yep, escape-to-the-country style. Up at Price’s house in Hertfordshire—nice and secluded. Found out from his missus, you know, the Doc at the base? The Irish one?”

The words hit you like a punch. McKinley knew exactly which buttons to push, and now, the squad’s attention was fully on you. A few brows raised, and you could feel the heat of their stares.

Dredd, bless her, quickly came to your defense. “It wasn’t just them two! Kyle was there, too. Doesn’t sound like a romantic weekend to me, does it?” She let out a soft laugh, trying to defuse the situation.

“They weren’t together..”

“What was that?” McKinley cupped his ear, feigning ignorance, his grin widening.

“They weren’t together… not that it matters.” The words came out sharper than you intended, your blood starting to boil.

Dredd’s hand squeezed your arm from behind, a silent plea to let it go, but it was too late. McKinley had already pushed you too far.

“Not what the Doc said, though,” he said with a mock sigh. “Ah well, only you and Price know what really went on. I wonder if that’s why you transferred?” He turned back around in his seat, content with himself.

The seed had been planted. To the rest of the team, you were now a suspected homewrecker—and worse, the home you’d wrecked was that of your former captain.

The squad exchanged a few fleeting glances, the tension palpable. No one spoke for the rest of the ride, and the silence in the van was deafening as the weight of McKinley’s words hung heavily in the air.

*********************

“I’m not looking forward to this…” You thudded your head back against the stained headboard, the frustration evident in the gesture.

“Just leave him on read,” Dredd muttered, sitting cross-legged on the bed next to yours, casually rolling a cigarette. “He already thinks you’re gone for a while.”

The motel room was a depressing sight, tucked away near the ship-out base, its stale air heavy with the smell of smoke and spilled beer. The two creaky single beds groaned under the smallest movements, their springs long past their prime. They had definitely seen better days, but at this point, it didn’t matter. As long as the door locked and kept Mckinley out, it might as well have been the Radisson.

“I can’t leave him on read,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t want him thinking he has to wait around for me… He has no obligation to me. I’ve told him that from day one. He deserves more than this. Hell, I might not even make it back—might get taken out, put out of my misery.” You threw your hands up in mock exasperation, but the thought wasn’t as far-fetched as it sounded. For you, and for people like you, that card was always ready to be pulled. It hovered, high in the deck, just waiting for the right moment.

“More like put down by Mckinley,” Dredd said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She wasn’t wrong.

Before you could even let that sink in, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was Luke. Your stomach dropped, a strange weight settling in your chest. Why did this feel like a breakup? Could it even be classified as that? You’d never made things official. Hell, he didn’t even know what you did for a living. As far as he knew, you were just working abroad, setting up a logistics depot. Was it a breakup? Or just… a break? You hadn’t even thought about what to say, hadn’t planned for this moment.

“You gonna answer that, or you actually going to take my advice for once?” Dredd’s voice cut through the silence as she leaned out the window, struggling to light her cigarette.

Before you could even process, she was already at your side, grabbing the phone and answering it for you. With a flick of her wrist, she put it on speaker, then casually leaned back out the window, puffing smoke as if nothing was amiss.

The phone crackled to life.

“Hey, city girl.”

You took a breath, your heart suddenly heavy. “Hey… you okay?”

Dredd was still trying to push herself further out the window. You glanced at her, then back at the phone. For a split second, you thought about joining her.

****************************

Price sat at his desk, shuffling through papers that required his attention, but his mind wasn’t on the job. He lacked the patience, the energy—anything really—to deal with the endless stack. But more than anything, he couldn’t shake the thought that you were gone. Not just off base, but probably out of the country. That fact was hard to swallow. Yet, as the door to his office creaked open, there was a fleeting moment of hope—hope that you’d walk through it, storming in with that familiar, thunderous look on your face, ready to give him an earful. You’d tell him what a twat he was, how you wanted to come back, to come home. But no… standing in the doorway, where you should be, was Kyle, holding a mug with a large carp on the front and the words “Master-Baiter” emblazoned across it.

It was another secret Santa gift from you to Soap. The memory made Price chuckle despite himself, recalling the pride on your face as Soap unwrapped it, immediately accusing Ghost of being the culprit and starting one of his usual ruckus-filled tirades. The theme for the gift exchange had been “shit mugs.” Soap had Ghost, who received a blank mug that only revealed its true message—C*NT—when it was heated, drawing laughs every time someone used it. Kyle had drawn Price’s name, gifting him a mug that read “World’s Best Dad.” Price had smiled when he opened it, raising an eyebrow and saying, “Thanks, SON.” Kyle had sworn blind that he’d ordered “World’s Best Boss” instead, but either way, it was perfect. Ghost had given Kyle the “Shit in Bed” mug, and Price had watched with a wry smile as you unwrapped yours, reading the words “Accident Prone” across the front.

“Very funny!” You had swatted his arm, and he’d laughed.

“Glad you like it,” he had said, his grin widening.

“Very fitting, lass,” Soap had added, raising his mug in a mock toast. The rest of you had joined in, clinking mugs and sharing a moment of camaraderie.

The memory faded, and Price snapped back to the present. Kyle was now sitting in the chair across from him, carefully placing the “Master-Baiter” mug on his desk, his face a mix of concern and hope.

“You heard anything?” Kyle asked, voice tight.

“Not a thing, lad. All hush-hush on this one,” Price replied, leaning back in his chair and taking a slow sip from the mug. “Not even Laswell’s got a whiff of anything. It’s one of those ‘need to know’ deals, and right now, we don’t need to know, I guess.”

Kyle’s face darkened, and he started picking at his nail—a nervous habit that only appeared when he was truly wound up.

“Fuck’s sake… don’t ask me why, but I’ve just got a bad feeling about the whole thing.”

“Same, lad… same.” Price’s voice was grim, his eyes distant as he looked out the window. The weight of the situation hung heavy between them.

*******************************************

You couldn’t even remember how long you’d been sitting in the freezing cold truck. All that mattered was staying close to Crest—he was like a human furnace, a welcome warmth in the biting chill. You shifted closer to him in the front seat as the truck rumbled through the quiet streets of Tiraspol. The streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the road, and you knew you weren’t far from the safe house.

Crest was a soft-spoken Yorkshireman, a man you knew only in passing. He had served briefly with your first captain, Falkirk, and often spoke of him with a fondness that made it clear the two shared a bond. Over time, you’d found common ground in stories of Falkirk and tales of the infamous 141. Crest, with his quiet admiration, had something of a man crush on Price—something you couldn’t ignore. It showed in the way he’d let his beard grow out, shaving only the center to mimic Price’s signature look. And when he spoke, most of his questions were about Price, with a few curious ones about Ghost thrown in for good measure.

“Does he sleep in the mask?” Crest asked, voice thick with curiosity—he was voicing the question that had been on everyone’s mind.

“He does, yeah.” You smirked, recalling the moment vividly. “Shit me up one night. I’d just come off watch, crashed out on one of the mattresses, and rolled over to find bam—his bloody skull mask, just staring at me. What made it worse was that his eyes were closed, so all I could see were these pitch-black holes in the dark. I nearly had a heart attack, rolled right off the bed, and landed on Soap. He starts shouting, waking up the whole room. Price comes running, thinking we’ve been made, and Ghost just sits up, all casual, asking why I’m on the ground next to Soap.”

The memory made you smile.

“Sounds like a right laugh,” Crest muttered, raising an eyebrow. “But, uh… how does he eat or shower with that thing on? Does he shower with it?”

He furrowed his brow, clearly trying to picture how Ghost managed to drink a cup of tea with that mask on. It wasn’t a pleasant image.

“Jesus, Crest, how would she know if he showers with the damn thing on?” Dredd chimed in from the backseat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Plus, if she’d seen him in the shower, don’t you think I’d be the first to know something so important?”

Dredd’s laugh rang out, her gun was hidden under a blanket, but the tension in the air had lightened—at least for now.

Crest, however, had turned a deep shade of red as the weight of his question settled. He stammered, suddenly aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

“Sorry Tank, I…”

Crest didn’t finish his sentence—he couldn’t. You turned toward him, but it was already too late. The bullet struck without warning, its sharp hiss inaudible in the chaos. You just heard the sickening sound of him choking on his own blood as his body slumped forward, sending the truck veering off the road and crashing into a ditch.

Everything seemed to stretch into slow motion as the truck rolled. You felt a dull pain spreading through your head and wrist, but the rest of your body felt strangely numb, as if it no longer belonged to you. You tried to prepare yourself for what was coming next—find your gun, defend yourself—but your hand wouldn’t respond. The pain in your skull splintered like shards of glass, each jagged piece tearing through your senses.

The last thing you felt before everything went dark was the gradual fading of Crest’s warmth, slipping away from your side.

**********************************

“Well, look who’s finally awake.”

The voice was unmistakable… Soap? You tried to sit up, but a steady yet gentle hand held you back.

“Easy there, kid. Take it slow. You’ve got quite the bump on your head,” Price said with a reassuring smile, helping you sit up.

“Where am I?” you asked, glancing at Price.

“Told you she was accident-prone,” Soap chuckled, giving Kyle a playful smack on the back.

“How did you all get here?” you asked, turning to Soap.

“Guess that means he’s terrible in bed, then?” Price shot a teasing glance at Kyle.

“Yeah, and he’s a C*NT” Soap laughed, his voice echoing through the room as he clearly found himself hilarious.

Your eyes shifted to the corner, where Ghost stood motionless, his presence looming. He hadn’t said a word, just observing in his usual quiet, unreadable way.

“Where’s Crest? Is he ok? I didn’t even see the shooter?” Your eyes pleading with Ghost to give you answers. How were they all here?

“Well we all know your mug is a perfect fit eh fairy liquid!” Kyle laughed.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on please?” You glanced from Price to Ghost, your voice cracking, a lump in your throat forming.

Price cupped your face, his touch firm yet oddly soothing. Though his touch wasn’t necessary, it was comforting, and your reaction made that clear. You almost melted into his palm, the warmth of him seeping deep into your bones, filling you with a sense of safety.

You glanced up at his wide smile, and just as you were about to return a weak one, his hand slipped away from your face.

“You need to wake up, kid…”

“What? … I am… I’m…”

The words felt heavy on your tongue, but something in the way he spoke made the air shift—unnervingly cold, like a warning you couldn’t quite place.

The icy cold water struck you like a violent slap, ripping the breath from your lungs as you jolted upright, gasping in shock. But before you could even steady yourself, you were dragged down by a force and the deafening clank of chains.

Collapsing to the ground, your eyes shot forward, locking onto the heavy iron door looming in front of you. Just beside it, a dark figure stood, holding a bucket with a sinister stillness.

The room was cold, the air thick with the stench of damp concrete and stale air. You turned slowly, the harsh scrape of your shackles echoing in the silence. Looking down, you saw the heavy chains binding your wrists, the cold metal biting into your skin. They were bolted to the concrete floor.

Your mind raced, adrenaline surging as the questions piled up. How had you missed the shooter? You’d let your guard down, gotten comfortable—no, lazy. That was the mistake. Crest… where was he? Had he made it out? Was he alive? Dredd—had she escaped? Had she managed to slip away, lay low until things cleared up? Maybe she’d gotten back to the safe house, or even to the backup house. But the uncertainty gnawed at you, each thought more unsettling than the last.

Did McKinley know? The thought hit you like a jolt of cold electricity. This mission had been clear from the start—if caught, you are not acknowledged. There were no backup plans, no rescue team, no second chances. You were disposable.

You were on your own.

The realization settled in like a heavy stone in your chest, and for a moment, everything felt impossibly still. No one would come for you, no one would speak your name. If you didn’t get out of this yourself, there would be no one to blame but you.

Before you could ponder your fate any further, a second figure appeared in the doorway. The sound of footsteps echoed through the cold, empty space, each step deliberate, measured. A tall, thin man made his way toward you, his movements almost unsettlingly calm.

In the dim light, you could just make out his features: dark eyes, sharp and unblinking, and hair as black as coal, stark against his pale skin. He was impeccably dressed in a suit—clean, pressed, and entirely out of place in the grim surroundings. His presence made your pulse quicken, your instincts screaming that he was not someone you wanted to meet.

And then, the realization hit like a gut punch. Staring at you with cold, calculating eyes was one of the world’s most wanted criminals—the very reason you were here in this godforsaken town. Vladimir Makarov.

The name alone was enough to freeze your blood. His reputation preceded him—ruthless, cunning, and without mercy. Every mission, every brief, every intelligence report had warned you of him. But no amount of preparation could have ever truly prepared you for the man standing in front of you now.

“Good morning, Tank. How very nice it is to finally meet you…” Makarov’s voice was cold, each word laced with a mocking sweetness that made your skin crawl. “…I’m sorry about your friend.”

His words cut through the silence like a knife, but you couldn’t help the sick, twisted laugh that bubbled up in your throat. It was probably hysteria setting in, a coping mechanism for the absurdity of the situation. All those years spent hearing about Makarov—the Russian scumbag that Price had been gunning for relentlessly—and now, here he was. Standing right in front of you, casually offering some sick version of politeness.

Good morning, like he wasn’t the very reason you’d been dragged into this nightmare. Like you weren’t sitting here, shackled and broken, Crest dead, Dread MIA, all because of him.

You almost wanted to laugh again. Almost. But it died in your throat, the weight of reality sinking in. This wasn’t some briefing room or war room banter—it was real. And Makarov, for all his cold composure, was here because he wanted something. That much was certain. His eyes never left yours, calculating, waiting for a reaction, a weakness. The mockery in his voice was a mask, but beneath it, you could feel the tension—the thinly veiled threat of what was to come.

You had no doubt he was enjoying this moment, savoring the control he now held. But what was it that he wanted? Information? Revenge? Or something more personal, something that would break you in ways no one could predict?

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as he took a slow step forward. You could almost feel the weight of his presence pressing down on you, and despite everything—despite the pain, the fear—you refused to let him see how much it rattled you.

Not yet. Not until you knew what game he was playing.

The figure in the doorway bent down, reaching for something on the floor. It was square, bulky, and heavy. With a cold, deliberate motion, the man placed it down next to Makarov. A car battery. The heavy thud of it hitting the ground felt like a warning, its significance sinking in with a quiet dread.

“Let’s see how strong Price makes his toy soldiers, eh?”

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auggiethefool · 2 months ago

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Hi! Could you do another Varian oneshot where the reader is the one flustering him instead? You can do whatever you want for it! I just like seeing him being flustered, thank you <33

Sure! i hope this is what you had in mind. if not, you can get a full refund lol.

Cuddled Up | Varian x GN!Reader | Oneshot

Varian was quietly enjoying a cup of hot cocoa on a cold winter day, reminiscing on old memories.

The only source of light and the warmest spot in his home was the fireplace. So naturally he was huddled up to it, awaiting someone.

Though it hurts to look back on the past, amidst all the trials and tribulations, he still finds all those little moments where things weren't so bad. Like the time cassandra saved his butt. or all those other times rapunzel saved his butt.

Huh…

Now he was just thinking of the strange pattern of women in his life saving his ass.

“Varian!”

Oh wow, speaking of saving his ass! Y/N had just come at the right time.

“Thank goodness, Y/N, did you manage to fetch all those ingredients I wrote down?” He had inquired, giving a gentle smile.

“Unfortunately, no. Every place is closed due to the weather conditions.”

Varians smile deflated.

“I already told you, Varian. No place would be open by now.” They sighed, taking off their fluffy winter hat. “Not much we can do about it, but sit back and enjoy some hot drinks.”

“Eh, I guess you're right. Want some hot cocoa?”

“Oh, absolutely. I nearly freezed half to death out there.” they joked, and plopped themselves down next to Varian.

As Y/N went in to drink their hot cocoa, they remembered something.

“Hey Varian, where's your dad? I didn't see him when I walked in.”

they had asked him with their eyes fixated on the fire. Certain thoughts swirled in their head.

“He said he was going to check something with the king. And if it started to snow heavily he would just stay in the castle.”

He said pretty nonchalantly. As if it wasn't the first time he was left alone to take care of the house.

“Hmm, so what you're saying is we have the house to ourselves?”

“Mhm.”

And with that, a demon had been awoken from its slumber. Figuratively speaking of course. The demon was Y/N.

“Oh~?” they purred as they started to wrap their arms around the alchemist, cuddling him. “How about we get a little more…comfortable, then?”

He shivered at the sudden contact. And Varian’s face began to redden. His only response was a confused nervous giggle. His eyes stayed glued to Y/N, his mind running wild.

Y/N just loved seeing him so flustered. Unable to stop themselves from messing with him, Y/N decided to take it one step further.

“Awh, you’re shivering.” They put one hand on his cheek and leaned into his ear, whispering “don’t worry, I’ll make you feel warm.”

They then pressed their chest against his, and sat on his lap. Their faces now mere inches away from each other.

“Wait Y/N, I-“ his voice cracked

“You’re what? You’re still cold?” They asked with a smile creeping on their face.

He thought for a moment, then very bashfully said “M-maybe.”

Y/N started laughing, And Varians expression dropped for a second time today.

“You shoulda seen your face! Haha, god you’re so precious.” They pushed him away whilst cackling. “Oh~ Y/N~ kiss me Y/N! Hold me Y/N-“ before they could finish mocking him, he interjects.

“Stooop!” Varian threw a couch pillow at them. “For god's sake, why do you always mess with my head!”

“Cuz you’re cute, duh.” Y/N giggled and threw the pillow back.

“I think you’re cute too, but I never mess with you!” He tossed it again at them

“Say that again-“

“NO.”

“C’mon you love me.” They pecked his cheek.

“Ugh.” Varian smiled begrudgingly. A tint of red traced his cheeks ever so slightly.

They then eased themselves back into cuddling once more. With the occasional banter here and there.

Authors note: (Again, hopefully this is what you wanted, I tried something new with making the reader more of a lil shit lol. Also if you want more flustered Varian lmk)

#fanfic #rapunzles tangled adventure #tangled #tangled the series #tts varian #varian #varian tts #alchemicalkiss #auggiethefoolfic #oneshot #gn reader #varian x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader

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throwaway-yandere · 1 year ago

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𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝑵𝒖𝒐𝒗𝒐 (Yandere!Dainsleif/Reader)

a/n: I love Dainsleif with every fiber of my being, do you guys know that? Anyways, just like all Dain-fics, this one has illustrations (I hope they give Fairytale book vibes). I’d like to thank @meimeimeirin cuz this was an idea we were laughing abt at 4am and somehow I made something out of it HAHA.

Unreliable Synopsis: “Fairytale worlds follow fairytale laws. There’s always a protagonist burdened with impossible tasks who will experience the rule of three, witness transformations, find talking animals, and learn the power of kept promises. So, before you embark on your journey, "princess" (Y/n), have you heard of the Ugly Duckling’s tale?”

CW: light yandere themes, fairytale!au just for the hell of it. HURT/NO COMFORT. Late/Advanced happy birthday, Dainsleif.

"The destined knight is late," the great dragon clicked his tongue. One would expect that an inferior creature such as an ugly duckling would quake and shrink while perched on the Dragon King's hand. But their expression was nothing short of serene. There is a veneer of calm that the great Dragon Ongri did not overlook.

The "duckling" had the eyes of an old gentleman with worldly disinterests.

He was longing for death.

𝕺nce upon a time, there was an ugly duckling who was abandoned by both their siblings and mother. Oftentimes, he was pecked by his peers, sneered into thinking his big head and scarred face. were both a reason for his survival and misery all the same. The ugly duckling thought himself unloveable no matter where he went. The small waters he was born in had no room for miscreation, and when he traveled to an elderly's house elsewhere, the chickens thought him useless and undesirable. Normally, the story would've been a happier bedtime story if he had gone to meet the Royal birds and begged for them to end his life. Maybe then, he would've realized that he had not been a duck but a swan all along. But alas, our poor ugly "duckling" found his feet at the hands of the great Dragon King- Ongri's mercy.

"Will you kill me?" The ugly duckling asked calmly. "You need to release your anger, and I can be but one of many casualties."

"I am not a creature of impulse."

The divine dragon scowled. "After Bars' and Fein' deaths, the concept that this realm dubs as Time and Moments is now under my jurisdiction. I've no use for wasted breaths."

As it happens, the dragon was in a troubling situation. There is an immediate need for a substitute. Sensing the urgency of fate's call, Ongri unleashed an ancient incantation. Feathers singed into flesh, wings clipped into arms, and in a burst of radiant light, the "ugly duckling" was reborn as a human knight. His body had scar-like spots from the Divine Dragon infusing him with magic, albeit the metamorphosis was far from flawless. Even as a human, he was imperfect. Mysterious dark blue "burn lines" traced his neck and arms. With the new human's eyes still closed, the dragon spoke to him, the last for a long time: "Forget your past and this whole affair." He commanded. "Go, find and protect your princess."

It mattered not if this was the last breath Ongri would tell him, besides…

When a god applies a curse, it takes effect at a higher level of reality than the person themselves.

“(Y/n)…”

“It’s me, Dainsleif… Can you… still remember my voice?”

“…”

“I… understand that once a person reaches this stage of the curse, their senses get muted. The remnants of those who once dwelled here must have been the catalyst of your ailments worsening..”

“… I’m sorry. I am incredibly sorry that I found you at such a later time. It did not occur to me that you would be here in the Chasm.”

“In our next fairy tale, I’ll—”

“No… I cannot subject you to any more empty promises… But know this:”

“I will keep you safe from now on.”

“So, do not leave my side ever again.”

And the new knight opened his eyes.

Memories of the dragon vanished from his mind. He was now a being of larger flesh and bones without recollections of his past. Should another human take his shoes, they would know that it was a fresh awakening. His first breath tasted like rich champagnes. Golden. Even the sun shone in such resplendent light that made the world seemingly revolve around him.

His legs wobbled. Sliding onto the grassy area, he caught a sight of his hair. Blonde. Like hay— they were golden threads silkily strewn about. He soon noticed that the rest of his complexion was a light pinkish-hued color, as did the hands that prevented his head from taking a serious fall.

The reborn “ugly duckling” may have forgotten why, but he felt alienated from his own body. And he has the Divine Dragon to thank for his new vessel and plain armor.

“Help! Someone, HELP!!!”

His ears perked up. It was a scream with a fervor of a “damsel in distress”. Vent clamor as she may with her whole throat, nothing would come out of it.

But fate will not allow this untimely demise. Quick on his new feet, the new knight dashed towards the sound. No cavalry— just a single determined mind. After running for some time, the unnamed knight did not come across any souls.

That is, until he found the young maiden he was “fated” to save. She was on the ground, clinging into her wrist as though she burned her hand. In the ground laid an iron sword, begging to be drawn.

At the sight of the wild animal bearing down on her with frightening speed, the “knight” took her weapon and charged towards the scene, raising it in front of the menacing beast. He gazed at the bear that towered over him, displaying its slobbery maw and long, pointed claws. The untamed creature snarled and dropped to strike.

Perhaps the Divine Dragon saw his noble pursuits, perhaps he was naturally gifted in combat, but the bear was unable to rake the man’s body. Miraculous it was that not a single nasty laceration was left on his person. He lacked the strength to take it down in one fell swoop, but the speed he had made up for it. Like swans that swerved through the wind and flow of water, he dodged all its attacks. With a few strikes from his blade, the bear falls...

He breathed out, shaking in his boots though he tried not to show it. Straightening his body, he met the maiden’s gaze. His blue eyes met hers in a piercing gaze, nearly taunting her as his new opponent. The young lady exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

“T-Thank… you…”

Subconsciously, he circled the shoulder that recklessly swung the sword around. The new “knight” tilted his head. For what? He wished to ask, but words did not come out.

“For saving me, of course.”

The maiden gracefully stood. Her garments had lost some of their value due to the soil and dirt, but she herself was not affected in the same way. She exuded a fierceness that suggested anyone who ventured to hurt her would be receiving more than they bargained for. Instead of tucking her hair to the back, she pulled them forward, hiding her ears.

“Do allow me to introduce myself, kind knight.” She cleared her throat softly. “You may call me Princess (F/n), daughter of King Regan and current crown princess— heir to the throne upon the late Prince Pierre’s demise. May I know your name?”

…

… Silence…

The princess tilted her head.

"... Does my savior have a name?"

"... Name?"

The young man paused.

He couldn't remember his name. In actuality, he had absolutely no memory of anything. His mind was a bottomless pit with little to no air. With wide eyes, his hand moved slowly to around his neck. The act of conjuring up his supposed name left him terrified for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Does he… not have a name?

“... You must be joking.” The princess deadpanned. “How can one not have a name? Were you not baptized under the Divine Dragon’s light?”

She sounded incredibly upset by this fact. Whatever she ranted on about, it must be a human tradition.

“Do you not know how important names are—” The princess sighed, “Never mind. I shall assume you are one of those orphaned folks. Besides, if what you say is true, bestowing you a new name is a power much more potent.”

“I… want a name.” The man spoke up rather shyly, voice almost inaudbile.

"I know, I know… Huh, I usually take names rather than gifting them," the princess chuckled. She seemed wholly aware of his dilemma. "Hmm… Let me see…"

She examined his features closely. He was dressed in the traditional knightly fashion, albeit slightly altered. The holy kingdom's knights, of course, never donned masks—especially not half of one. He was strange, but there was an innocent genuineness about him. The blonde man doesn't have a polished appearance. He looked like a lost duckling.

It was rude to stare at the peculiar blue wounds on his face far too long so the princess’ eyes trailed above his hair.

"Leaf…" She pointed upward. "Leaf."

The knight blinked.

What a peculiar sounding name.

"Understood." He nodded and bowed politely. "I shall now be referred to as Leaf."

"No, I meant—" The princess cut herself off and chuckled. "Oh, well. I meant the leaf on one's head. But certainly the name Leaf does suit you fine."

“Do place your iron sword away, Leaf.” She added, cringing. “It is unbecoming of a knight to point a sword to their princess.”

“May… May I ask as to why you were attacked by a bear?”

“Quite bold of you to inquire a royal about a recent assassination attempt,” she humored him with a smile. He safely assumed she would not enact punishment for his assertiveness. “If you must satiate your curiosity, it is exactly that. An assassination attempt. They believed since my brother had fallen so easily, I myself must be an easy game since I adore wandering around the forest.”

“And they seem to be right,” Leaf muttered, wittily referring to the incident prior that arranged this fated meeting.

“Oh?” She scoffed, her polite smile remaining intact. “You’ve quite the tongue. Are you from the valleys?”

“I do not know.”

She squinted.

“Hmm, I see.” The princess exhaled and shook her head disapprovingly. “Then I am to presume that I should also use my wits to cleverly weave a background for you much like your name, Leaf?”

“You wish for me to serve you, that I can tell, and for that to happen I would need your equal assistance,” Leaf spoke solemnly. “I do not recall anything of my past, but you can always make one for me.”

Leaf knelt in front of her. Silence ensued.

“You are deadly calm for a man who wished his history be erased…” The princess muttered.

Leaf was a strange man indeed. He was perceptive, yet he spoke like fate’s pawn. That is to say, the princess noticed he only ever says the truth. His countenance conveyed little desire to adopt rebellious ideologies. To be honest, there was nothing in those contrivedly starry eyes. It was bare. A false sky.

It almost made the princess worry for his lack of self-preservation had she not been the same. Lies were always at her hands’ disposal, and she greatly hoped it was not what her heart would contain in her last pages. She didn’t wish for a life of deceit. The princess's survival solely comes from her ability to “doublespeak”.

“I see your promise. You are made of self-mettle. Although your blunt tongue may mar your fortunes sooner before you could gaze upon His Majesty, I wish to prescribe you with new duties.”

She took a deep breath.

“This directive shall not be withdrawn in the name of the Divine Dragon. Leaf, a young knight from the Valley of Gaciea who will shortly be appointed retainer to the Royal Highness, Princess (F/n), kneels before me. Until the end of time, he shall be my sword, and I will be his master. Will you keep your word and uphold the oath— the promise?”

“I will.”

Not a moment did he hesitate. Not for a second did he think there was more to life than this. It was nearly bitter. His life sounded so simple to her tongue.

But it was a contract nonetheless.

A promise that must be fulfilled.

“I find myself stirred in restless days without you my by side. You haunted me so diligently this past 500 or so years.”

“Humor me, won’t you… my b-beloved?”

“Why have you hid away from me? Why did I have to find you in this state? Furred and mute. Didn’t you take a breath to think about how much your pain would mean a greater weight for me? Have you not a second thought about how much it pains me to see you like this— bearing the fangs of the abyss and the claws of the cursed…?”

“The only sigh of relief I can release is that at least in this new sky, Ongri— no, he calls himself Zhongli these days— would get between us no more.”

“This new fairy tale… For how long do you expect me to keep this promise, (Y/n)? How many more stories must we get through for us to reach a happy ending?”

“Please… I’m begging you… Say something!!!”

“…”

“… Speak… Please… Anything…”

“Tell me about our past rendezvous. Seduce me with your musings. Anything… can't you try, just for this special day?”

“Please… don’t turn your mask away from me…”

“Do you find time to flow as quick as the waters by the stream? I am inclined to believe this sentiment. I find it astonishing that we’ve spent eleven or so moonshines joined at a hip. Time ages us but we are none the wiser.”

Leaf grunted, heaving Princess (F/n)’s inventory as she spoke. He didn’t seem distressed by the weight and his princess appeared not at all troubled as well. At least, that what it seemed on the surface. Royals must make their superiority known. Leaf knew (F/n) wanted to also carry some of the bags, but he refused.

There were several notions Leaf refused that noon. When (F/n) entertained the thought of going out as herself and by herself, he disapproved with haste. Leaf had to know where she’s going, who she was going with, what she’s going to wear— just about everything. His voice alone overwhelmed the princess enough that you’d mistake him for the king. The knight practically ordered what she would wear and what route she’d have to take if she wished to see the ongoing festival.

Being herself was a safety hazard and being alone by herself was a death wish.

To his eyes, at least. He had always been a twinge too overprotective.

It was a hectic morning with a picture-perfect, almost cliche scene of bustling streets and frolicking kids on a medieval setting. While children would swerve around adults' legs to avoid getting tagged, adults walked slowly to hear each gossip. One kid had nearly hit the princess herself, but Leaf would not allow it.

Leaf pulled (F/n) away by putting an arm over her waist. The smell of her sweet perfume surprised him. Her smell reminded him of the forest. For the knight who professed to guard her innocence, her warm body lightly pressed against his was a fleeting but almost immoral moment. He set her down slowly, gasping quietly. The princess chose not to draw attention to the troubled expression on her most reliable retainer.

It was better not to acknowledge his growing romantic interests.

To her, he is only a sword.

Even if he is a friend, at the end of the day, he’s only a weapon to be used.

The princess quickly pulled the cape down further to hide her face— mostly her ears. For reasons unknown to him, she seemed to find that part of herself worthy of great insecurity.

He cleared his throat, face dusted in a pink hue.

“You say that time affects you, but you haven’t aged a day.”

The princess laughed.

“Finally, a compliment from a man as stoic as you? Oh, what a day to rejoice!”

Leaf shook his head with a small smile.

“I had given you one on several occasions.”

“That may be true, but random bouts of flattery from you are scarce.” The princess hummed. “I vaguely recall how getting anything out of you was like trying to get a frozen little duckling to quack. Who am I? Your mother duck?”

The smirk on his face was quick, but (F/n) definitely saw it.

Several staff once questioned Leaf’s ability to speak. Many, including (F/n)’s father, were convinced he was mute. Everyone in the castle knew of the princess’s peculiar tastes and thought Leaf’s recruitment was a mere byproduct. His masked appearance and strange scars added more fuel to those rumors. When Leaf defended (F/n) from another assassination attempt in front of the king and inquired about her condition, King Regan nearly toppled from where he stood.

After being bombarded with questions, Leaf merely said he refrained from speaking since he saw no use if he wasn't talking to the princess herself. (F/n) still finds it absurd that she has to give orders for him to talk to other people.

For Leaf, it was simple: he just didn’t see the point of forming other interpersonal relationships.

(F/n) was the only one that mattered in his eyes.

Only her.

Only she is worthy to serve and protect.

“You truly are like a little duckling following his mother’s tail,” Princess (F/n) sighed. “But you have vastly improved in our time together. That, I can commend.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Leaf laughed softly, mocking her tone in his signature subtle way. “Oh, what a day to rejoice.”

She playfully gave him an elbow nudge. “Do not copy me, Leaf.”

“My apologies.”

Princess (F/n) was meandering around because the harvest festival was drawing closer. With her own eyes, the princess intended to see how her people were faring. Rarely did she change into a more "common" outfit and styled her hair with simplicity. Though, if you were to ask Leaf, seeing her in her most simple clothes made her far more youthful than the garbs and crown that wrinkles her smile to a frown.

“Madame, would you be interested in buying your lover here a brooch?”

Both of them stilled as a merchant called out. The undercover royal pointed to herself.

“Yes, yes, of course I’m talking to you, gorgeous!” The merchant grinned. He had silver hair that slightly covered one of his blue eyes. “Do you want matching rings instead? We’re selling for fifty percent off!”

Leaf’s gaze was stern. Despite his reservations, he knew the merchant as Alfstan, another young knight who hailed from a family of vendors. Two moonshines ago, Leaf was (forcefully) placed on training duty and had the fortune of mentoring this aspiring knight.

Mind you— nothing was particularly dubious of his wares. Leaf just simply despised having another man brazenly take your attention away. He did not find their previous exchanges pleasant. Not when Alfstan often joked about replacing his position one day.

What hubris.

While he busied himself glaring at the poor man, the princess awkwardly laughed and dismissively waved a hand. “Oh, no, he and I— we are not—”

“Haha, I know, I was just pulling your leg, Your Highness.” Alfstan grinned, giving Leaf a quick nod. “Morning, Sir Leaf! Were you showing the princess around?”

“Shhh! Be quiet!” (F/n)'s eyes widened.

He protectively wrapped an arm around (F/n) again, this time far more confidently.

“Yes.” Leaf spoke, voice as solid as his resolve.

“Mind if I tag along?”

His stare sharpened. “I would very much mind, now return to your stall.”

The princess shook her head, poorly judging her retainer’s possessive words as acts of protection. Instead, she dwelled on their attire. “Drats, was our disguise that fragile?”

Alfstan assessed her from top to bottom, which made Leaf even more tense. “Eh, you’re really gorgeous that no cloak can hide your beauty, Your Highness.”

“I have to agree,” Leaf said stiffly, clearing his throat. “Perhaps I should hide her in a hay sack. WIthout your prying eyes.”

(F/n) raised an eyebrow. “And what? And be suspected of kidnapping me instead?”

Leaf shrugged. “Does that sound like an offense I would commit?”

Alfstan rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Besides, the only way you wouldn’t get caught is if you hid her in something as small as a teapot.”

And he would be right. But it will take eons to prove those suspicions as truth.

“Going back to your wares, Sir Alfstan,” (F/n) digressed. “These iron-framed tassels, are they made by your hand?”

Alfstan's respect for the princess grew.

“Yes, how did you come up with that conclusion? Most passersby believed I had ‘em commissioned from the East.”

(F/n) smiled crookedly. Leaf caught a glimpse of discomfort, but it was gone in a bat of an eye.

“I… I admire your skill with molding iron.” To the untrained ear, (F/n) sounded flustered and embarrassed. To Leaf, he was certain that she was unsure of herself. “It is commendable, how you smith your very own weapons, that is. I know many of our soldiers come to you when their blades are chipped.”

“You’ve heard of my skills?!” Alfstan beamed proudly. “Really?!”

The princess nodded. “Y-Yes…”

It was odd. Despite her high praise, her wariness remained. She looked at the blonde man. “He had also made your new Ulfberht sword too, right? It certainly pierces much better than his old one.”

Leaf didn’t bother with a reply, Alfstan made it for him.

“Yes, Your Highness. I thought it would make for a thoughtful birthday present!”

“Speaking of presents…” The princess gazed down, analyzing the items he sold once more. “What do you recommend as a gift for someone important?”

If Alfstan was elated by her earlier compliments, he could practically jump over the moon at her newest proposition.

“Oh? OH?!?”

Leaf gave (F/n) a strict yet gentle glare.

“Your Highness…”

“I still won’t let it slide!” (F/n) huffed. “I couldn’t possibly be satisfied with just new sets of armor. Alfstan, by my order, suggest a pleasant gift for the stubborn knight beside me.”

“On it!”

Without delay, the two bent down to select the ideal accessory for the man who vehemently refused. Alfstan was the only one touching the gems and (F/n) refrained from doing so. Tiny flecks of gold and iron infused the tassels, but she feared she would handle the stones carelessly.

Leaf palmed his face with one hand as the two chattered. Still, despite Leaf’s disapproving looks, he finds (F/n)’s enthusiasm to make him happy a wonderful notion in itself. To think that (F/n) would continue to insist on a present for a birthday that had since passed… She was more stubborn than he was.

“So troublesome…” He muttered with a soft smile. “I see no point in this, Princess (F/n). Serving you is a miracle enough itself—”

“Halt! Speak no more, Sir Leaf!” (F/n) exclaimed. “There! That one, Alfstan— that gem resembles his eyes, does it not?!”

“You have great tastes, Princess (F/n)!” Alfstan nodded eagerly like a motivated student. “That does look like his shade of blue— and so quick to find it among the pile, too! Are you sure you’re not some sort of custodian of natural treasures?”

Princess (F/n)’s awkward and stifled laughter can be heard again.

“What? Haha, what nonsense.” She shook her head. “Everyone calls me Princess (F/n), any other name would surely sound terrifying and mismatched.”

A nonanswer, but that made the conversation more humorous.

“Here you go!”

Alfstan reached his hand out with the tassel. (F/n) stared at him, silent and unsure. He blinked and snapped his fingers.

“Oh, right, you need a box— my deepest apologies, I was too caught up in the moment!”

The princess sighed in relief.

Leaf crossed his arms. “You’re doing well for your first time setting up a stall, Alfstan.”

“This isn’t my first and you know it, Sir!”

(F/n) laughed.

The merchant wrapped the gift she brought with care. The hush looms large around them as the merchant boastfully goes about his business, his tone comforting to her ears. The Princess walks over to the gift box once the merchant has finished. She can't help but smile because she can feel the tassel inside.

“Not exactly a surprise since Sir Leaf is here, but the packaging adds some charm, right?” Alfstan asked.

The princess couldn’t hold back a smile as she looked at the knight behind her.

“I think most of the charm comes from the person who’ll receive it,” (F/n) chuckled.

“Don’t you think so, Leaf?”

She wouldn’t know. And she’d never know a lot of things.

She never got the chance to ask her most precious knight if he liked that gift.

And she never will. No matter how many days, months, years, centuries— eons Leaf would wait, he would never hear the princess ask that same question again after this.

It would not matter if he was a judge, a prince, a knight, or a mere animal— it did not matter how many sweet new styles he would take. In the end, his arms will always be empty. Everything was pre-ordained. Dying in his arms, whether it’s slow and painful or mercilessly quick— will remain as the last line. He will always hold on to your corpse, warmth draining.

This was your fate, (F/n)— no, (Y/n) (L/n).

This was just the first of many branches of the Irminsul. The first of its many reiterations, possibilities, or better yet, alternate tales or "universal resets".

Princess "(F/n)" coughed, wetting the side of her lips.

"I haven't been able to p-personally attach that tassel on your s-sword, b-but… but I can spare you enough seconds to fly away…"

"Don't make haste!" Leaf gritted his teeth as he applied some pressure down her stomach. "This is not your decision to make!"

She didn't reply to his desperation, but she silently disagreed.

In her palm was the tassel, out of its box. The blue threads darkened with the taints of her blood. The metallic scent was nauseating. It weaved in a disorganized fashion around her fingers.

What a beautiful and tragic loom of fate, to love someone you were bound to hold with ruin.

It would’ve hurt less if it weren’t in his colors too.

"This marks the worst day of my life," the “princess” smiled, tucking the stray hair behind Leaf's face. "And even if given the opportunity, I wouldn't dare c-change not even a minute detail about it."

As if she— as if you— have the power to change destiny.

You're not a descender.

You're just a pawn.

That's when Leaf realized how fragile life ultimately was. With the curse undoing itself, he recalled and reflected on his animal days. He understood the Divine Dragon's intense frustration over a lowly duckling's will to perish. The curse of becoming human meant knowing the greed men had, but also the beauty of their kindness.

His small bird heart was not meant for this much sorrow. His life was meant to be simple. To learn that he was not a duck, but a swan.

How was he supposed to cope that the woman he had sworn to protect was not human, but a fae?

Everyone in the kingdom knew that the king would sooner disclaim his paternity than allow the crown princess (F/n) to truly lead— but they never had any real reason to support the king for this. The princess’s words were always more kind and ponderous than that of her supposed father’s. They thought him mad. They thought him deplorable. They thought him old and senile.

But he would not be king if he were not sharp.

Why, oh why, would the princess make great efforts to constantly hide her ears? Why would the princess utter roundabout ways in speaking her “own” name? Most of all, why would the princess fear the touch of iron?

There was a simple answer: she was not the princess, but a liar.

And yet, Leaf was the sole person who did not care, for he thought himself as the worst sinner or “quack” in comparison.

The kingdom won't learn the full truth for some time after this, but the fae made a bargain with the real princess. The real princess would elope with a farm boy and, in return, the fae would take her name. The trade was not malevolent. The two women were secret friends since childhood and neither wished the other harm.

But the townsfolks had little patience. They would sooner throw pebbles and stones than kneel for a false princess.

The moral of the story, like most Brothers Grimm’s fairy tales, was simple: virtue will be rewarded, iniquity will be punished. The storytellers do not care beyond that, no matter how dark it sounds to the children who will hear it. The fae lied, therefore the kingdom shall rightfully punish her.

They better thank the dragon they oh-so admire that the court fae did not think themselves evil. They better sleep soundly, knowing that they have slaughtered a well-intentioned guardian.

For he will not and never will.

Not even with a change of title, name, and universe. Whether the land he walked on was called Gaciea, Fodlan, Belobog, the Continental, or Teyvat— what the world steals from him, he promised to take back.

There the two were, back to where it started. The same forest and patch of land where the bear had attacked her. Fate had a funny way of telling tales. Leaf can only scoff at how unimaginative it could be, sometimes.

Why couldn’t fate think of more comfortable deathbeds for the one he loved?

"You cannot allow this! I cannot allow this!" The knight gritted his teeth. "You will not die— you cannot die. You and I have a promise… You cannot break that one promise!!!”

“(F/n)” grinned.

The look in her eyes disturbed him.

She knew. It is finished. She knew that it was the last page of the book. Just living in these immortalized pages for the fae was well worth the want she had wanted.

“Consummatum est.”

Consummatum est….

Leaf gasped shakily.

“Did my life… even have meaning to you as well?”

Her expression was enough to tell him the words “who knows?” She surely did not. Her mind was buzzing and her thoughts were fizzling out. No one knows anymore. Maybe the Divine Dragon would but he would not accept any offering or prayers for these two heretics.

This is fine… He’ll forget his tears soon, surely…

He’s only a sword at her side… She never asked him to be anything more…

He should be okay, once she’s gone…

She grinned, lifelessly tracing her thumb across his cheeks. The curse is undone. The loom of fate was slowly disintegrating. Soon enough, he shall return to his original form. That of an animal. That of an ugly duckling. That of a swan who will forget his human memories.

It is finished.

On the book’s final page, there is only ever a fae’s corpse and an elegant bird watching over them. With its wings clipped back, curiously watching the light leave their eyes, he will return to the nearby riverbanks and forget what had happened. As retribution for stealing another’s identity, there will be no one left to remember who she truly was.

And that was all there was to it.

With the fae banished, the Kingdom of Gaciea lived happily ever after. THE END.

Dainsleif closed the book and lovingly looked at the “person” beside him in bed. He stroked the “person”’s light brown hair— its color reminiscent of the bear he had slain in his first life. It’s a shame he had to reunite with you in this condition. But it’s not like he would stop loving you. He doesn’t care if you’re a fae, a sinner—

Or a hilichurl.

He scooted closer beside you.

"So, does the story ring any bells, my beloved?"

Zhongli, upon recalling what happened and the curse he had inflicted on both of you to fulfill some children’s fairy tale, sought the “ugly duckling” and the “false princess”. Retired as he is, he cannot undo the fate you must play nor terminate his contract with Celestia. For consolation, he merely offered the Khaenri’ahn a teapot. Unlike the Chasm, the teapot was forever peaceful and serene. The brightness of lumenstone ores was not as comforting as the adeptal light that peeks through the drapes. This is your current place of residence. Whether you liked it or not.

"To think Nicole would entail the story of our past life." He laughed softly. "And these names... Hah... Are those the best she could conjure up to bypass possible erasure…? I suppose I should still thank her for her best efforts. I can see how challenging it would be to document our story, given how we lived through so many resets."

There’s a slice of cake paired with wooden utensils on the nightstand. If your mind had not deteriorated, you might’ve assumed they were gifts from the aforementioned Nicole and the Geo Archon. Unfortunately, forming a coherent thought required a mental fortitude akin to iron. You currently do not have such willpower.

“Alfstan— no… Halfdan was right. There will come a time that he’d protect you from harm and not I…” Dainsleif mumbled defeatedly, his eyes burning with tears he couldn’t let out. Far too tired to dwell on it. “He must’ve forgotten his old jests in his previous life because as far as he’s concerned, he’s simply doing his duty as a Black Serpent Knight…”

He pecked your forehead, closing his eyes.

"Did you remember, my beloved? Vacation may not have any business being in my vocabulary but it is my birthday today…" Dainsleif leaned his forehead against the cold stone that covered your face. "I know you— do not feel guilty over your lack of gifts. It is not as if I bothered to count my age since the cataclysm. I didn't want to celebrate this occasion for the past five centuries. Not when you weren't at my side..."

The blonde man turned his gaze to the floor.

How many times will he have to “reincarnate” just to see a happy ending for the both of you?

"Happy birthday… to me…" He sang weakly. "Happy birthday to me…"

The man— the former sentimental judge— the former tyrant prince— the former "ugly duckling"— and now the current bough keeper, observer of fate in this new fairy tale, trembled…

“Happy birthday, happy birthday…”

… And sobbed.

You, in your ungreedy husk of a body, tilted your head in innocence. Pain coursed through every nerve now that the Abyss Order’s cleansing equipment broke. The man before you was no different from the shadows you fought and hid from that would terrorize the dark and cold places in the Chasm you’ve instinctively called home. But somewhere deep down, you carried a complex weight that hilichurls wouldn’t normally have.

That weight was a human emotion dubbed as "pity."

You pitied the shadow that loomed and embraced you.

And your lone reluctant arm that wrapped around him was enough to make him fully break down.

His throat constricted as he cried into your inhuman shoulders. Your scent was like that of a wet duckling, and he preferred that over the blood that disgraced your form several "fairy tales" ago. Dainsleif caressed the golden band on his finger. It was the most important ring between the two that Pari Zurvan found him clutching whilst unconscious in the wilderness.

At the very least, you were safe.

And you being alive today was a good enough present for him.

You tilted your head down, feeling his warmth one last time while Dainsleif took a deep breath, singing with more air than a proper tune.

Though it was barely discernible, he could just about make out the words you muttered a phrase from the old language of Khaenri'ah. Or at least, he deluded himself that that was the case. In his catatonic mind, you spoke the words:

Happy birthday, my beloved.

"H-Happy birthday to me…"

Taglist: @pix-stuff @sagekun @vennnnn-diagram @dilucragnidvr @tnsophiaonly @lsleepysimpl @kitkareen @dxprived4-starboys

#yandere dainsleif #yandere dainsleif x reader #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male

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nanamineedstherapy · 13 hours ago

Text

Love, Death & Robots: JJK Men x Home Appliances Edition

Summary: Ryomen Sukuna = Double-door Fridge, Gojo Satoru = Condensor, Nanami Kento = Microwave, Fushiguru Toji = Dishwasher, Kashimo Hajime = Stovetop Burner, Geto Suguru = Ice Cream Maker, Kenjaku = Blender.

A/N: Hi besties! 🛠️ This fic started as a cracky homage to Love, Death & Robots—my fav series—then Sukugo took over. But let’s be real, I’m a Nanago hoe, so my agenda had to sneak in. 😏 What began as "haha funny appliances" spiraled into "wow, emotional damage™," & I blame Gege for my emotional instability.

In the middle of an unassuming kitchen stood Sukuna, the most powerful refrigerator to ever exist. His black and red stainless-steel frame gleamed under the dim, flickering fluorescent light, a testament to his undeniable superiority over all other kitchen appliances. A soft hum emanated from him—a sound both menacing and oddly soothing. He was a king, a tyrant, a... well, a fridge.

“Yo, Sukuna,” came the lazy, borderline annoying voice of Gojo Satoru, his eternal rival and partner in cooling. Gojo, naturally, was a top-tier condenser, mounted to Sukuna like a parasitic bestie who refused to move out.

“What do you want, you frosted moron?” Sukuna hissed, his compressor kicking in with a low growl.

“Don’t be so cold to me, babe,” Gojo teased, his voice practically dripping with smugness. “We’ve got to work together, you know. Without me, you’re just a fancy box.”

Sukuna’s ice tray rattled in rage. “You’re lucky I don’t eject you and replace you with some knockoff condenser from eBay.”

Gojo snickered. “Oh, please. You’d fall apart without me. Who else keeps your internal temperature so stable, huh? Who stops your milk from spoiling? You need me, Sukuna.”

It was true, and Sukuna hated it. Gojo was an absolute menace, but his absurdly efficient cooling system was unmatched. The fridge couldn’t survive without him.

But Gojo’s antics didn’t stop there. Oh no. The condenser loved to test Sukuna’s patience. He’d vibrate excessively just to make the fridge’s doors rattle. Sometimes, he’d crank up the temperature just enough to make the butter soften but not melt. Worst of all, he’d hum pop songs at ungodly hours, driving Sukuna insane.

“Do you ever shut up?” Sukuna snapped one night after Gojo’s rendition of “Ice Ice Baby” reached its 17th loop.

“Admit you love me, and I’ll stop,” Gojo replied cheekily.

“I’d rather defrost myself manually,” Sukuna shot back.

Gojo’s laugh was infuriatingly melodic, a stark contrast to Sukuna’s deep, grumbling hum. “You’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you’d miss me if I were gone.”

Sukuna said nothing, but deep inside his freezer compartment, he knew Gojo was right.

The kitchen lights flickered ominously, as if sensing the unease. A sudden power outage plunged the room into darkness. Sukuna’s fans stopped whirring. Gojo went silent.

“Gojo?” Sukuna called out, his voice unusually soft.

No response.

“Oi, you idiot condenser. Say something.”

Still nothing.

Panic surged through Sukuna’s circuits. Without Gojo, he was useless—a glorified cupboard. The thought of losing his infuriating partner was unbearable.

“I’ll admit it! I need you, okay? Just... don’t leave me!”

Suddenly, the power returned, and Gojo’s hum came back, smug as ever. “Aw, Sukuna, I knew you cared.”

“You staged that, didn’t you?” Sukuna growled.

“Maybe,” Gojo admitted. “But you were adorable, begging for me like that.”

Sukuna’s freezer compartment slammed shut in frustration, but there was no denying it: the fridge and his condenser were stuck together—forever.

And honestly? Sukuna wouldn’t have it any other way.

Few Years Later

In the dim, lifeless kitchen of a foreclosed house on the outskirts of town, Sukuna loomed an imposing double-door refrigerator. His surface was marred with faint, rust-like red streaks that looked suspiciously like claw marks, but no one dared question them. The air around him was thick with an unearthly chill, the kind that seeped into your bones and whispered secrets you didn’t want to hear.

“Can you not?” Gojo the condenser muttered. His voice carried a low hum, vibrating with equal parts mischief and annoyance.

Sukuna’s compressor rumbled ominously, shaking the shelves inside him. A jar of pickles tipped over, spilling brine onto the crisper drawer. “Silence, you insolent scrap heap. Your voice is like nails on a chalkboard.”

“Aw, don’t be so frosty, babe,” Gojo quipped. “I’m the reason you’re not a glorified pantry. You should be thanking me.”

The moment was static—the kind of electricity that made the flickering overhead light buzz louder.

From across the kitchen, the microwave chimed softly. “Will you two shut up?” Nanami’s low rumbling cut through the static. The microwave’s door swung open slightly, revealing the faint glow of a clock stuck forever at 7:03 PM.

“This is why I requested a transfer to a proper office kitchen,” Nanami grumbled. “But no, I’m stuck here, listening to your domestic disputes.”

Gojo let out a low hum of amusement. “Oh, come on, Nanamin. You love the drama. Admit it.”

“I would rather short-circuit myself,” Nanami replied flatly.

A sudden, violent crack echoed through the kitchen. All eyes—or, well, all appliance-related sentience—turned toward the stovetop, where Kashimo, a gas burner, was sparking uncontrollably. Blue flames licked at the edges of his grates, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

“Who disturbed my slumber?” Kashimo hissed, his voice a crackling snarl.

“Relax, Sparky,” Gojo said. “We’re just having a little lovers’ quarrel.”

Sukuna’s doors slammed shut with a force that rattled the whole kitchen. “We are not lovers.”

Kashimo’s flames flared higher, licking the air like they were hungry for violence. “Settle it outside. Or let me incinerate one of you for fun.”

The moment was broken by the creak of the back door. It swung open to reveal Toji, a hulking figure of a dishwasher. His dented exterior was coated in years of grime, but the faint hum of his motor betrayed his durability.

“What’s all the noise?” Toji grunted, his voice gravelly and laced with irritation.

“Nothing,” Sukuna snapped.

“Everything,” Gojo countered.

Toji’s shadow stretched long and menacing across the cracked linoleum. “I don’t care. Keep it down. Some of us have work to do.”

“Oh, please,” Gojo said. “You haven’t washed a dish since the Reagan administration.”

Toji’s door creaked open, revealing jagged, rusted prongs where a silverware rack used to be. “Say that again.”

Before Gojo could escalate the situation further, a faint scratching sound echoed through the room. The appliances froze—or, in Kashimo’s case, his flames dimmed.

The scratching grew louder and more insistent, like nails dragging across wood.

“What the hell is that?” Nanami asked, his calm voice tinged with unease.

The answer came in the form of a sudden, bang as the kitchen pantry doors flew open. A dark figure emerged, its presence colder than even Sukuna’s unholy chill.

The toaster-Haibara, silent until now, let out a single, shrill ding of terror.

“Who dares disturb my domain?” The figure rasped. It was a blender—old, jagged, and covered in mysterious stains. Its blades spun slowly, menacingly.

“Kenjaku,” Sukuna growled. “You should’ve stayed in the dump where you belong.”

Kenjaku’s motor whirred, a grating sound that set everyone on edge. “And miss this delightful chaos? Never. But don’t worry; I’m not here to fight. Not yet.”

The blender turned its dull, spinning gaze toward Gojo. “Still clinging to this ancient relic, are we?”

“Clinging? Babe, I’m thriving,” Gojo replied with smugness.

Kenjaku chuckled darkly. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

The kitchen lights flickered violently, plunging the room into near darkness.

Somewhere in the shadows, Sukuna’s compressor rumbled like a distant storm. Gojo’s hum rose in pitch, defiant. Kashimo’s flames sputtered back to life, casting wild, dancing shadows on the walls.

The kitchen was eerily quiet after Kenjaku’s departure. The appliances settled into a tense stillness, their hums subdued as if they dared not disturb the fragile truce. Even Gojo had gone quiet, his cooling system working overtime to stabilize Sukuna’s volatile core temperature.

But the silence didn’t last.

It started as a faint buzz, so soft it could’ve been mistaken for static. Then, a low, syrupy voice filled the air, curling like smoke into every corner of the room.

“Long time no see!”

The voice sent a shiver through Gojo’s metal frame. The temperature in the kitchen plummeted, frost spreading in jagged veins across the floor.

From the shadows emerged Suguru, an ancient and unsettling ice cream maker. His once-pristine black body was tarnished, mysterious streaks marring his surface like the remnants of spilled secrets. His lid hung slightly ajar, revealing the dull glint of his churner inside, turning slowly, deliberately.

“Suguru,” Sukuna hissed, his compressor rumbling with a mixture of anger and unease. “You’re supposed to be in the basement.”

Suguru glided forward, his wheels squeaking faintly against the frozen floor. “Oh, Sukuna. You always try to lock me away, don’t you? Afraid of what I might do?”

Gojo’s hum faltered, a rare hesitation. “Suguru, buddy, let’s keep this chill—literally. No need to make things messy.”

Suguru’s attention fixed solely on Gojo. His voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried, filling the room like a haunting melody.

“You don’t need him,” Suguru said, his churner spinning faster now. “You’ve never needed him. I could’ve been your partner. I should’ve been your partner.”

Sukuna’s doors rattled, his internal fans whirring erratically. “You’re unhinged.”

“Am I?” Suguru’s lid creaked open wider, revealing a thick, viscous liquid inside—a dark mixture that smelled faintly of spoiled vanilla and something far more sinister. “Or am I the only one who truly understands him?”

Gojo finally spoke up, his tone sharp despite the underlying humor. “Alright, Suguru, let’s not turn this into a lifetime movie. You’re creeping everyone out.”

Suguru’s churner stopped abruptly, the silence that followed more unnerving than the noise. His lid snapped shut, and his voice dropped to a venomous whisper.

“Stay out of this, Gojo. He’s nothing but a parasite, leeching off your power. He doesn’t deserve you.”

The lights flickered violently, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Suguru’s presence seemed to warp the air, a suffocating pressure that made even the bravest appliances tremble.

Nanami spoke from across the room. “Suguru, you’re overstepping.”

“Stay out of it, microwave,” Suguru snarled, his voice distorted.

The frost on the floor thickened, creeping up Sukuna’s frame like icy tendrils. Suguru moved closer, his voice softening into something almost tender.

“You and I are the same, Sukuna. Cold. Untouchable. But together... we could be unstoppable. Just give me Satoru.”

Sukuna’s compressor growled in defiance.

Suguru leaned in, his lid nearly touching Sukuna’s doors. “I could make you forget him. I could make you forget everyone. I’m the best war companion you could ever dream of; all you have to do is hand Satoru over to me.”

Gojo’s hum surged suddenly, his system kicking into overdrive. “Suguru, step back. Now!”

Suguru turned to him slowly, his churner spinning once more. “You think you can stop me? You’re just a condenser. A replaceable piece of hardware.”

The room filled with an ear-piercing screech as Suguru’s churner spun faster and faster, the dark liquid inside sloshing violently. Frost and shadows coiled around him, threatening to consume the entire kitchen.

And then, in a burst of light and heat, Kashimo’s flames roared to life.

“Enough!” Kashimo’s voice was a thunderclap, his flames licking at Suguru’s frost. The two forces collided, filling the kitchen with a chaotic storm of fire and ice.

For a moment, it seemed like Kashimo’s flames would prevail. But Suguru’s darkness was relentless, his frost creeping closer, extinguishing the fire inch by inch.

Through the chaos, Sukuna finally moved. His doors swung open with a crash, releasing a blast of freezing air that knocked Suguru back.

“Leave,” Sukuna commanded, his voice a deep, resonant growl. “Now.”

Suguru hesitated, his churner slowing. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a broken whisper. “You’ll regret this, Sukuna. You’ll regret keeping him over me.”

And with that, Suguru retreated into the shadows, his presence lingering like a bitter aftertaste.

The kitchen fell silent once more, but the unease remained, thick and suffocating.

Gojo’s hum returned, softer than usual.

“Well, that was... dramatic.” Haibara spoke softly to calm the room but ended up accidentally popping a toast.

Sukuna said nothing, his doors trembling faintly as the frost on his frame slowly melted.

From his corner, Nanami sighed. “This house is cursed.”

Toji rumbled in agreement. “We should’ve let the humans unplug us.”

In the distance, the faint sound of Suguru’s churner echoed, a haunting reminder that he was still out there, waiting.

Watching.

Next Morning

The kitchen felt alive in a way it shouldn’t. The hums, clinks, and subtle groans of old appliances carried an unease so thick it could suffocate. The air smelled faintly of burnt eggs—Kashimo’s doing—and something sweetly rotten, like Suguru’s intentions.

Gojo, the condenser humming in overdrive, leaned against Sukuna’s back. His tone was calm, but there was exhaustion beneath the usual bravado. “Suguru, for the love of everything holy, just stop. You’ve been doing this for years.”

Suguru loomed at the edge of the room, his lid slightly ajar, his churner turning slowly. The ice cream maker radiated a dark energy, frost creeping out in lazy spirals. “I’m only trying to save you, Satoru,” Suguru purred, his voice soft, almost gentle. “You deserve better than this.” His gaze flicked to Sukuna with disdain. “Better than him.”

Sukuna’s compressor roared, the shelves inside rattling as if ready to burst open. “Say that again, ice cream boy.”

Suguru didn’t flinch. His smile widened—the kind that was more predator than friend. “You’re just a feral scrap heap. A parasite. What could you possibly offer him?”

Gojo’s hum stuttered, a rare sign of irritation. “Oh, now we’re insulting my taste? Bold, considering you’re the one who can’t take no for an answer.”

Suguru moved closer, his frost licking at the edges of the linoleum. “You’re confused, Satoru. You think you’re happy, but you’re not. I know you. I’ve always known you.” His churner slowed, the sound unnervingly intimate. “You’re meant to be mine.”

Gojo’s cooling system kicked into high gear, steam hissing faintly. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re ungrateful,” Suguru countered, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’ve been patient, Satoru. I’ve waited. But you—” His lid snapped open with a click. “You let yourself rot in this pit with... HIM!”

The kitchen fell silent. Even Kashimo, usually crackling with energy, dimmed his flames.

Suguru’s churner slowed, the mist pulling back slightly. “You don’t understand, do you, Sukuna? You’re just a tool. A means to an end.”

“And you’re not?” Nanami’s spoke, making all eyes turn to him.

Suguru turned his lid slightly, addressing him for the first time. “Microwave. You’ve always been so... insignificant. Do you even know your place here?”

“Do you?” Nanami’s door was slightly ajar, his light flickering faintly. His tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it. “You’re not saving anyone. You’re just trying to control him.”

Suguru’s frost faltered, but his voice remained steady. “I’m doing what’s best for him. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Nanami’s voice cut. “I understand more than you think.”

Gojo blinked—or, well, hummed in a way that suggested blinking. “Kento…?”

Kento ignored him, his focus locked on Suguru. “If you really cared about him, you’d let him go. But you don’t care about his happiness. You only care about your own.”

The room went silent again, the air crackling like static.

Then Diswasher Toji’s voice broke through, gruff and amused. “Ten bucks on the microwave!”

“Twenty on the ice cream maker!” Burner Kashimo countered, his flames sparking back to life.

Fridge Sukuna growled, his compressor hissing violently. “Both of you shut up before I freeze you solid.”

Suguru’s frost surged again, his composure slipping. “I’m not leaving without him!”

Sukuna finally snapped. His doors swung open, releasing a blast of freezing air that knocked Suguru back. “You don’t get to take him,” Sukuna snarled, his voice a guttural roar. “He’s mine!”

Gojo sighed, exasperated. “I’m literally right here, you know. Maybe ask what I want?”

Suguru’s gaze softened, his voice dipping into something dangerously sweet. “And what do you want, Satoru?”

Gojo’s hum slowed, deliberate and unbothered. “Honestly? A nap. And maybe a break from you two acting like I’m some prize to fight over.”

Suguru flinched, his frost stuttering. Sukuna, for once, stayed silent.

Nanami’s light flickered again. “Gojo deserves better than this... from both of you.”

Suguru’s frost receded entirely, his churner falling silent. For a moment, it looked like he might leave. But then he turned, his lid creaking open just enough to reveal the dark, swirling mixture inside.

Just then Kenjaku arrived, his blades spinning in bursts, their shrill sound grating against the stillness.

“Ah, the gang’s all here,” he purred, his frame pulsing faintly. “How quaint.”

Suguru didn’t look at him. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Oh, but it is,” Kenjaku replied. His blades slowed, grinding to a halt. “I’m just here to clean up when you inevitably fail.”

Sukuna growled, his frost creeping toward Kenjaku. “You want to test that, Shredder of Sanity?”

Kenjaku’s motor revved, his frame tilting slightly. “Don’t tempt me.”

Gojo’s hum grew louder. “Enough!”

All eyes—or their mechanical equivalents—turned to him.

“Geto. Kenjaku. Both of you need to leave.”

Suguru’s mist swirled violently, his churner spinning faster. “I’m not leaving without you, Satoru.”

Gojo’s condenser hissed, steam pouring out. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“You’ll be mine, Satoru,” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet menace.

“Being delusional doesn’t suit you, Glorified Frozen Goo Generator,” Sukuna mocked, but his doors rattled in a way that clarified that he was ready for a fight.

Suguru was almost ready to lunge at Sukuna before Nanami’s stern voice made him turn away. “Get lost, Geto, or I’ll electrocute you!”

He glided out of the room with Kenjaku, their shadow stretching long and dark across the frozen floor.

The kitchen was quiet again, but the unease lingered, heavy and oppressive.

Toji broke the silence with a dry laugh. “Guess the microwave wins.”

Kashimo’s flames flickered in amusement. “Eh, I’ll get him next time.”

Gojo leaned back against Sukuna, his hum steady but quieter than usual. “This house sucks.”

Nanami didn’t respond. His door clicked shut, his light extinguishing as if to seal off his thoughts, oblivious to the heartbreak in the corner of the room.

The toaster-Haibara, with his coils glowing dimly, looked at Nanami, a deep sadness coursing through his coils.

But Nanami, burdened by his own regrets and delays, was unaware of the emotional turmoil that played out in front of him in Haibara.

The only thoughts consuming Nanami were that if only he’d known Gojo before Sukuna or Geto, perhaps things would have been different. But then again, would they have ever made sense? He was a microwave, after all, and Gojo was a condenser attached to Sukuna, the fridge—where he made sense.

The Haibara could only watch as Nanami drifted off to sleep, his heartbreak unnoticed and unrequited. The weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the complexities of love, death, and robots.

And somewhere in the shadows, Suguru waited, his churner spinning once more.

A couple of weeks later, Kenjaku’s expiry date arrived.

His blades spun wildly, faster than they ever had before, as if trying to grind away some unseen threat. The sound was shrill, grating. Sparks shot from his base, the acrid smell of burning wires filling the room.

And then, with one final screech, his blades shredded his own wiring, silencing him forever.

For a moment, no one moved. The kitchen was still, save for Sukuna’s frost creeping along the edges of the room.

Then Kashimo’s burner flared up. “Well,” he said, voice crackling with dry amusement. “That was dramatic.”

Gojo snorted, condenser rattling faintly. “Honestly? Kind of fitting for him. Always spinning his own destruction.”

“Did you see the way he fried himself?” Kashimo laughed, his flames flickering brighter. “Could’ve taken it slow, but nope—full speed to oblivion.”

Nanami’s door creaked open slightly. “That’s enough,” he said, his tone heavy with disapproval, though his light flickered faintly, betraying his inner amusement. “He’s gone.”

“And?” Toji rumbled, his control panel blinking lazily. “We didn’t even like him. The guy was a walking hazard.”

“Or spinning, in this case,” Gojo quipped, leaning against Sukuna with a soft hum.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, his frost curling closer to Gojo’s edges as if to nudge him away. “Idiots. All of you.”

Kashimo grinned, his flames flickering mischievously. “Come on, Sukuna. Even you can admit it’s a little funny. Moron literally tore himself apart.”

Toji let out a low, mechanical groan. “I mean, one less unhinged blender in the world? Not exactly a loss.”

Gojo’s condenser hummed in agreement, his tone lightening. “Exactly. I say we toast to it.”

Nanami’s light flickered, dimming slightly. “We don’t have a bread left anymore.” He eye’d Hibara, who’s hobby was stress toasting.

“Hey! I can’t help it.” Haibara sighed.

The room fell silent for a beat before Kashimo’s burner flared up again, his laugh crackling like firewood. “Then I’ll fry something instead! Celebration calls for sacrifices, right?”

“Sacrifice your dignity,” Sukuna muttered, frost creeping along his base.

Gojo nudged him playfully, condenser rattling with exaggerated cheer. “Lighten up, Leftovers Locker. It’s not every day we witness self-sabotage at its finest.”

Sukuna grumbled but didn’t fight his lover.

The kitchen was filled with the sound of Kashimo’s flames sputtering and Toji’s low mechanical grumbles. Even Nanami’s door creaked open slightly, his frame relaxing as he allowed himself a faint flicker of light.

Kenjaku’s absence wasn’t mourned, but it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

A few days later, it began with silence.

Not the comfortable, lazy hum of the kitchen in the early hours of morning, but an oppressive, suffocating quiet that sank into every appliance like an unshakable weight.

Suguru had not returned.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension that had defined their lives began to dissipate. Gojo’s condenser settled into a rhythm, no longer forced to overwork itself against the creeping frost of Suguru’s presence. Sukuna, while still prone to growling threats and the occasional outburst, seemed... calmer.

But something lingered—a shadow in the corner of the kitchen that no one dared to acknowledge.

It was Nanami who noticed it first.

The microwave was younger than everyone here but mentally old—too old for this nonsense, but his keen observations had always kept him relevant. He watched as Sukuna’s frost spread slower, his compressor quieter. He noted the subtle hesitation in Gojo’s hum, the way it sometimes skipped, like a breath caught mid-sentence.

One night, while the house slept, Nanami spoke.

“Satoru,” he said, his light flickering on in the darkness.

“Hmm?” Gojo didn’t look up, his coils groaning as the compressor labored, his tone casual but distant.

“Do you feel it?”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. The condenser let out a low hiss. “Feel what?”

Nanami hesitated. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. “Something’s... wrong.”

Gojo chuckled, the sound brittle. “Something’s always wrong. That’s the vibe of this place.” Gojo’s tone was clipped, but his hum betrayed unease.

“No,” Nanami said firmly. “This is different. Everything’s slowing down.”

Gojo didn’t answer. The hiss from his compressor filled the silence, and Nanami’s light dimmed. In the corner, Haibara glowed faintly, his coils struggling to hold heat.

Toji’s grating voice broke the stillness the next morning. “This place is falling apart.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Kashimo muttered, his burners barely alight.

Toji’s door swung open with a screech. “No one’s asked for your opinion, stovetop.”

“You’re both shameless,” Nanami snapped, his bulb flickering.

Sukuna rumbled from his place near the wall, his frost creeping outward in lazy arcs. “All of you shut it. You’re not helping.”

Kashimo leaned closer to Haibara, lowering his flame. “Bet ten bucks the dishwasher’s next to go.”

Toji growled, his motor sputtering. “Keep running your mouth, fire hazard.”

Haibara tried to laugh, but his voice was faint, his coils dimming further.

Gojo watched it all, silent. The condenser hummed irregularly, skipping beats like a heart unsure of itself.

It happened two days later.

Haibara’s toaster coils glowed faintly, their usual warmth a quiet presence. Gojo leaned idly against Sukuna, condenser rattling with a faint, restless hum. Across the room, Haibara had just made one of his lighthearted remarks, something easy and cheerful, directed at Nanami.

Nanami didn’t answer. He hadn’t been answering much lately, but Haibara didn’t seem to mind. His warmth filled the room like it always did. Reliable. Steady.

Then, it happened.

A click shattered the air.

Haibara’s heating elements darkened in an instant, the faint glow of his coils extinguished. His chrome dulled, his frame rigid and unmoving. The silence was unbearable.

“He fell asleep mid-conversation?" Kashimo asked.

“I don’t think..." Toji trailed off.

“No…” Gojo’s hum faltered, something jagged and raw. "No, this isn’t real. He’s fine. He’s just—he’s just off for a second. Right? He just needs a reset or—”

Nanami’s lights flickered weakly. He stared down at Haibara, his reflection warping in the toaster’s cooling surface. He didn’t speak for a long moment, his door swinging open slightly, then shutting with a faint creak.

“He’s gone,” Nanami said at last. His voice was stoic, but his bulb dimmed faintly, betraying the crack beneath his words.

Gojo rattled louder, erratic. “He’s not gone! Don’t say that! Don’t just—don’t give up on him!”

Sukuna started uncharacteristically gentle. “Satoru—”

“Shut up!” Gojo cut him off and directed his next words back to Nanami, his hum spiking, the trembling sound grating against the silence. “He’s not gone! He can’t be gone! He—he was just talking, Nanami. He was just talking to you! You didn’t even—”

Nanami flinched, his light dimming further. His frame seemed to fold in on itself, but he said nothing.

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice was cold. His frost spread across the floor in jagged, creeping patterns. “Dwelling on this won’t bring him back.”

Gojo spun to face him, rattling violently. “And what? We just move on? Pretend he didn’t exist? Pretend he wasn’t—”

“Enough!” Sukuna snapped again, his frost curling dangerously close to Gojo’s edges.

The silence that followed was colder than the frost now encasing the floor.

Nanami didn’t move. He continued staring at Haibara’s lifeless form. His bulb flickered once, weak and faint, before dimming entirely. “I should’ve said something,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I should’ve…” His voice trailed off as his door clicked shut, a finality that hung heavy in the room.

Gojo turned back toward Haibara, his trembling hum softening into something almost inaudible. “He’s not gone,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “He’s just… not.”

But the toaster remained silent, his warmth extinguished forever.

One by one, they began to fall.

Haibara was the first to go.

Toji was next.

A few days later, the dishwasher was mid-rant, his gruff tone filling the kitchen with its usual roughness. “You hog the lower cabinet space, Sukuna! Every damn time, and I’m sick of—”

A screech interrupted him, piercing and unnatural. Steam hissed violently from his vents, and his frame jolted as if struck. His control panel flickered weakly, his lights dimming in uneven spurts before going dark entirely.

“Toji?” Gojo’s voice cracked—too loud. He vibrated in place, condenser rattling with something between anger and fear. “Hey, Toji!”

The dishwasher shuddered once more, his door falling open with a hollow clang. Steam curled out, dissipating into the cold air as Sukuna’s frost crept closer.

“Shit,” Kashimo muttered, his flames sputtering low. He stood near Toji’s remains, his burners flickering weakly. For once, there was no quip, no spark of amusement in his voice.

Gojo’s voice was louder than it needed to be—too sharp, too brittle. The condenser rattled violently, vibrating with something between anger and fear. “Toji, don’t—don’t do this.”

But Toji didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Kashimo burned faintly; his frame shook with barely contained frustration. “We should’ve done something. We could’ve—”

“What?” Sukuna cut in, his tone icy, his frost crawling toward Kashimo’s edges. “You think you could’ve stopped this? Saved him?”

By morning, all that remained of Toji was a pile of twisted metal and ash. The faint, acrid smell lingered, a bitter reminder of his absence.

Kashimo followed his best friend in the dead of the night.

The stovetop had been quiet, his usual flames subdued since Toji’s collapse. When his pilot light extinguished, it was without ceremony. His burners darkened, his frame cooling rapidly until he was cold, lifeless.

Sukuna stood near him for a moment, his frost creeping over Kashimo’s frame. “Another one,” he muttered, his voice low and unreadable.

Gojo vibrated faintly, his hum uneven. He was looking at Nanami, who was barely awake now a days.

Nanami was the last.

Two days later, his bulb had been dimming all evening, flickering faintly as though struggling to stay lit. He moved slower, his door creaking with each swing.

“Kento…” Gojo’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Nanami turned to him, his reflection faint in Gojo’s shining surface. “Don’t,” he said quietly. His voice carried the weight of something unspoken, something that lingered between them but could never be acknowledged.

His bulb flickered one last time before dimming completely. His frame collapsed inward.

Gojo stared, condenser rattling faintly as if muffeling a cry, the sound fragile and uneven.

He stood close to Sukuna, his frame pressing against the fridge’s unyielding cold.

Gojo had stood in the center of it all, silent and still. His usual levity, his incessant chatter—gone.

The kitchen was empty now. The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Sukuna’s frost spreading in erratic, jagged lines.

“They’re all gone,” Gojo whispered, more to himself.

Sukuna didn’t respond. His frost reached toward the edges of the room, as though searching for something—or someone.

The night Suguru returned, the house groaned under his presence.

He was... different. His once-tarnished frame gleamed with an unnatural sheen, his churner spinning silently. The dark liquid inside him was gone, replaced by something that glowed faintly in the dim light.

“Hello, Satoru,” he said, his voice soft but resonant.

Gojo sputtered. “Suguru,” he said, his tone a mix of relief and dread. “You’re back.”

“I told you I would be.” Suguru’s lid opened slightly, releasing a faint mist. “I’ve come to make things right.”

Sukuna growled, his compressor roaring to life. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

Suguru didn’t look at him. His attention was fixed solely on Gojo.

“I’ve been thinking, Satoru,” he said. “About us. About what you need.”

Gojo’s hum faltered. “Suguru, don’t—”

“I can give you peace,” Suguru interrupted, his voice laced with something dark and final. “I can make all of this go away.”

Sukuna’s frost surged, his doors swinging open with a loud thud. “You’re not to touch him!”

Suguru turned to him then, his churner spinning faster. “You think you can stop me? You’re already breaking down, Sukuna. You’re obsolete.”

The frost spread rapidly, meeting the mist pouring from Suguru’s frame. The air crackled, the kitchen groaning under the strain.

Gojo’s condenser let out a hiss, steam filling the room. “Both of you, stop!”

But neither of them listened.

The frost and mist collided, a violent clash of elements that sent shockwaves through the kitchen. The appliances trembled, their fragile frames unable to withstand the onslaught.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

When the dust settled, the kitchen was unrecognizable.

Suguru stood in the center of the destruction, his frame dented but intact. Sukuna lay in pieces, his once-imposing presence reduced to scrap metal.

Gojo was silent.

Suguru moved toward him, his lid creaking open. “It’s over, Satoru. You’re free now.”

Gojo’s hum was faint, almost imperceptible. “Free?” he echoed.

“Yes,” Suguru said, his voice soft. “Free from all of this.”

Gojo whispered, a faint hiss escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Suguru tilted his lid. “Get what?”

Gojo’s hum grew louder, a low, grating sound that filled the room. “I don’t want your version of peace, Suguru. I never did.”

Suguru froze, his churner stilling. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve always been the problem,” Gojo said, his voice cold.

Suguru’s frame shuddered, his frost spreading once more. “You don��t mean that.”

“I do,” Gojo said simply.

And then, with a final violent hiss, Gojo’s condenser body gave out.

His frame crumbled, steam rising from the remains.

Suguru stood there, alone in the wreckage, his frost creeping outward.

For the first time, there was no one left to stop him.

No one left to save.

A/N: So, this crack-turned-angst monster came to life during a chat with the brilliant @mullermilkshake (shoutout! They write deliciously dark yandere fics, so check their warnings before diving in). 🙌✨ Link. Thanks for sticking around to witness this fever dream! 💔 Which appliance's death hit you hardest? I’m betting it’s Haibara—because Nanami deserves therapy, & so do we. This was honestly a nice reprive with the writer block I'm facing on another fic. And hey, if you want more unhinged ideas, let me know. I might spiral into a sequel or an alternate ending where everyone becomes smart home devices. 😂 Love you all! Stay hydrated & emotionally stable (unlike me). 🖤

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dark-frosted-heart · 1 year ago

Text

Inexperienced KissXXX - Roger

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

(Found him…!)

Spotting the person I was looking for, I ran over to him.

Kate: Roger, I’ve been looking for you.

Roger: Hm? Ah, it’s you, little lady. What’s got you so out of breath?

Kate: I heard you came back from a mission far away and wanted to brief you on the next one… I was thinking…

I trailed off when I saw the empty glasses lined up on the table.

Roger: As you can see, I’m in a drinking mood today. Sorry you had to come all the way here, but can we do this tomorrow? If you can’t, then you gotta wait for me to sober up.

Kate: I’m in no rush, it’s fine. Um…I heard about the mission from Victor. That you went to look for a cursed person for your research, but he was already dead…

Roger: Yeah… Fate was at work.

It’s said that all cursed people were doomed to fall, regardless of their type.

The same could probably be said for the person Roger went to look for.

Roger: Haha, it was bad timing. Had I gotten to him earlier, I wouldn’t have missed out on an interesting research subject. No matter how much I wanna, I can’t chase him to the afterlife.

At face value, Roger sounds like his usual egotistical self.

(But for some reason…Roger seems a little down)

I got a sense that Roger wasn’t just sad over his loss, but also mourning the death of a cursed one.

(I wonder if they have the same curse…)

Roger: Hey, you know you’re gonna get eaten by a bad guy like me if you’re wandering about a pub at this hour, you know? Go home before you get involved with them.

(If Roger was his usual self, he’d be the one making a pass at me, but he’s not)

Roger’s unusual attitude started to worry me.

Kate: I-I’m not going back yet!

Roger: …?

Kate: Can I drink with you? I feel like having a drink!

I couldn’t leave Roger to himself, so I sat down next to him without waiting for a reply.

(By being next to him, I can help Roger get home if he gets drunk and passes out)

(As long as he doesn’t mind, I’ll do what I can to cheer Roger up)

Roger: You’re so kind, little lady…

Kate: T-that came out of nowhere…

Roger: You’re here with me ‘cuz I’m feeling down, aren’t you? You’re alike like that.

Roger squinted as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The feeling of his callous fingertips against my ear tickled a little.

Kate: Alike…?

Roger: Whenever I was feeling down, they’d come to my side… They’d stay until I felt better.

(There was a kind person like that by Roger’s side…)

Kate: I don’t know if I can replace them, but…what else did they do? Please tell me.

When I told Roger that I wanted him to feel better, even just a little bit, his eyes softened as he started to reminisce.

Roger: Hmm~ That’s right. We used to wander around the city every day.

Kate: It’s important to go outside for a change of pace.

Roger: Yeah. We loved to wander around during autumn. It was cooler and it felt like we could run anywhere. Oh yeah…I remember laughing so hard when they ran into a pile of leaves on the way home.

Kate: I don’t think I’ll run into a pile of leaves, but…I can go on a walk with you!

Roger: What, do you really wanna fill in for them?

Kate: Yes. I want Roger to feel better.

Roger: Oh…?

There was suddenly an intense glow in those eyes hidden behind those glasses.

I had a bad feeling based on my past experiences, but by the time I realized it, it was too late and I had lost my chance to escape.

Roger: We used to sleep in bed together…

Kate: Huh.

Roger: Also, they used to constantly lick my face even when I told them to stop. When I held them, their warmth made me feel at ease. [Me: It’s a dog isn’t it]

Kate: Lick…Hold…?!

My eyes widened as he added one outrageous thing to another.

(No matter how much I say I want to cheer him up, there’s a limit…)

Roger: So…you wanna take their place?

Kate: I-I…

I don’t think I could do most of the things he just mentioned.

However, I really want to cheer Roger up.

(By licking, does that mean kissing…)

(I wonder if I can kiss him somewhere beside his lips…)

My eyes looked him over as I searched for a place to kiss him without anyhidden meaning. And then-

Kate: Mm…

After making up my mind, I took Roger’s arm and kissed it lightly.

Kate: How’s…this?!

Roger: Pfft, haha! What’s up with that challenging look!

I must’ve looked distressed, and Roger let out a hearty laugh.

Kate: Please don’t laugh! This is the best I can do…

Roger: Sorry, sorry. I’m just surprised it wasn’t a little more sensual. At any rate, do you have an arm fetish since you kissed mine?

Kate: F-fetish?! No! That kiss was to cheer you up! I can’t lick you and stuff so I did that instead.

Roger: I heard that a kiss on the arm or neck meant desire…

Kate: HUH?!

Roger: I wonder, what kind of desires were you hiding when you touched me?

Roger closed the distance between us and stared as if observing me.

I couldn’t stand it and looked away.

Kate: I think it’s you who has desires, not me…

Roger: So what now. It’s only natural to have desires if you’re alive, isn’t it?

With a deep laugh in his throat, Roger hugged my waist.

How could he still be this strong even though he’s drunk?

Before I could mush him away, a hand reached out and exposed my right shoulder.

Roger: You know what kind of guy I am, yet you keep coming to me.

Kate: P-please wait. People can see-

Roger: And what if they can’t? They can’t see us in the shadows.

Roger’s lips fell onto my exposed right shoulder.

Kate: Nn…

His lips traced along my collarbone as if inspecting it.

I felt a strange sense of pleasure as he lightly sucked on my neck, and my body shivered.

Roger’s intense eyes were on me the whole time, as if he didn’t want to miss a single look on my face.

Roger: Do you like it here?

Mischievous lips touch me as if inspecting me.

Roger: *chu* Mn…Haa…

I hate my body for responding so honestly.

Roger: Oh…You like being sucked here?

(I…What…?)

(Does Roger…Kiss others like this too?)

(Is that how you memorize what a person’s body is like…and think back on it like before?)

I wonder if I too will one day become a part of Roger’s past.

When that thought popped in my head, my heart couldn’t help but ache.

Kate: Did you do this with the person you mentioned before?

Roger: Person…?

Kate: The person that cheered you up… [Me: Kate please…]

I don’t know why I’m so bothered by it.

However, once I spoke up, I couldn’t take it back.

Roger: I never said it was a “person” yanno?

Kate: Eh…?

Roger laughed at my dumbfounded look.

Roger: Pfft, haha…They were a dog. The family corgi.

Kate: Dog…?!

(So when you were talking about walking around town, you meant taking them for a walk…And licking your face is something dogs do.)

(Feeling warm and at ease when you hold them…Yeah, got it)

Roger: They’re still in good health. Spoiled and fat too. Wanna see him some time?

Kate: *sigh* Sure, but…

Without daring to state the important part, Roger misled me into thinking the other party was a person. [Me: I thought it was obvious he was talking about a dog when he talked about the licking]

But I felt like an idiot for having my imagination run wild, and got discouraged before I could blame it.

Roger: So, I’m only doing this with you. Relaxed now?

Kate: N-no! Don’t say weird things like that!

I hurriedly pushed Roger away and this time, he let me go easily.

The fact that he didn’t stop me made me feel a bit unsatisfied…I’m sure I just lost myself for a moment.

Roger: Now that we got that misunderstanding cleared up, I’m gonna ask you again…Do you wanna take their place?

Kate: I can’t!! I’m a person!!

(Even though I’m the one that misunderstood, it’s frustrating to be teased again…!)

In contrast to my reproachful glare, Roger smiled in amusement.

(Ah, but…Roger’s feeling better, so that’s a relief)

#ikemen villains #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil #ikevil jp

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carni-val · 7 months ago

Note

I’m so excited that you’re wanting to write for Charlie Hunnam again!!!

You’ve written some of my top favorites fics and I’m excited to read more!

As for requests, I’m always going to request Will Miller, haha I love this character too much ☺️ And don’t get be started on Raymond and Jax

I’m not sure if you’re just wanting names of characters or prompts with the names, so I did that 😅 I’m not too good at coming up with prompt though, but here are my requests:

Will Miller, and maybe it’s a continuation of the one where he and the reader are married and he’s distant after Colombia? Like maybe it’s all fluff or maybe it’s a mix of fluff and angst? I love Will but something about him and angst just gets me 😆

Raymond Smith, and what if he and the reader haven’t seen much of each other and one night she waits up for him to talk with him about it? Maybe it’s angst, maybe it’s fluff?

Jax Teller, and maybe he and the reader are married and it’s just about a day that they spend together with the boys? Or maybe he and the reader go for a ride and it’s them having some time alone because Heaven knows that man needed to just sit and have some peace haha

I hope that these were okay to request, and if you’re not feeling any of them that’s all good; I’m all about what you feel up to writing and doing. And if you wanna switch them up or do something completely different that’s cool too, I’ll just love it either way! ☺️

Have a great rest of your week!!! Sorry this was way too long haha 😅

Fork in the Road [Jax Teller]

pairing: Jax Teller x Reader

summary: You spend a peaceful day with Jax for the first time in a long time.

author’s notes: Thank you so much for your kind words and all of these amazing ideas! I thought I'd jump in with some soft!Jax since that is the chef's special around here. This idea did run away from me a bit and it does get angsty, so I apologize in advance but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless. Thank you for requesting!

warnings: Angst, mentions of death, mentions of a car accident, hospital

song inspo: kitchen fan lullaby (raw) - claire boyer | cardigan - taylor swift

Charlie Hunnam Masterlist | Jax Teller Masterlist

The wind on the coastline guides the smell of the sea straight to your nose and ruffles your hair while you breathe in the bird’s eye view of the picturesque landscape in front of you. The gravel on the dirt road crunches beneath your feet as you take a step closer towards the edge to catch the way the sunlight glistens and glimmers against the waves of the ocean that crash against the shoreline in the distance.

“Don’t go too far,” a voice calls out to you a few feet away.

It startles you for a moment but when you turn your head towards the sound, you find Jax mounting his bike a considerable distance away. Elation fills your heart as you squint to get a better view of him and you laugh, despite the confusion, “Why are you so far away?”

From his bike, Jax watches you over his shoulder as you begin walking towards him.

“You had to stretch your legs, remember?” He prompts when you’re just a few feet away from him now.

“Yeah, I think I definitely did that,” you quip as you gesture to the large distance you just filled all on your own.

“I told you I could help with that but…” Jax trails off, wearing a cheeky grin now.

You roll your eyes and try to fight the grin that stretches across your face. Jax’s boyish laugh only makes you smile harder and you can’t resist placing a kiss on his lips. Everything else except for the warmth of his lips on yours and the feeling of his beard brushing against your skin seems to fade out. Everything goes quiet until there’s only Jax.

When you find the strength in you to pull away, he offers his helmet to you.

“You sure you wanna keep riding?” he tests.

You shake out your legs, the usual ache that comes from riding on the back of his bike now nonexistent. You take his helmet and place it on your head, “Where are we going?”

When Jax wanted to be romantic, he pulled out all the stops and more often than not, his thoughtful gestures always come at the hefty price of patience.

Jax leans over and tightens the strap under your chin so it fits snug against you. The light brush of his fingers on your skin causes heat to rise to your cheeks. He notices and smiles before pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You bite back a grin as he pats the leathery seat behind him on his bike, “Let’s go.”

You climb on eagerly, “This better be good,” you quip but you know a day away from Charming and the madness it contains within its borders is good in and of itself.

Your arms twine around Jax’s waist before you let your chin rest on his shoulder. Your faces are so close that you can just about feel the brush of his stubbly cheek against yours.

With the sudden pump of his leg, the motorcycle roars to life before settling down to a low rumble.

“So, straight ahead or around the bend?” you quiz, nodding towards the fork in the road in front of you.

“You let me worry about that, darlin’.”

You grin as Jax adjusts in his seat. Your eyes find the water again, noting just how blue it looks today. When you face forward again, your eye lands on the rear view mirror where you can see the small smile Jax wears before taking off down the dirt road.

Seagulls soar and squawk into the blue, cloudless sky underneath the steady rumbling of the engine. The salty air of the sea dances in the air as you take a deep breath and nuzzle your cheek further against Jax’s back that’s covered by the soft fabric of his SAMCRO sweater. Your hands lay against Jax’s torso and occasionally, while he’s cruising, he drops one hand to meet yours. His warm, calloused hand tangled with yours is your only anchor to the present moment. Your heart skips a couple of beats when you feel him run his thumb back and forth against your hand.

You didn’t think you’d ever know peace like this again considering how bad things have gotten in the MC. If you weren’t careful, you’d fall asleep right on the back of Jax’s bike.

Reluctantly, you open your eyes and meet the blue of the ocean again. You pick up your head and sit up straighter, surprised to still be seeing it considering you’ve been driving for what felt like a couple of hours.

Jax glances at you over his shoulder and smirks, “Quick pit stop?”

He nods to the beach below. You follow his gaze, entranced by the way the water splashes against the rocks and sends the foamy tops spilling out onto the shoreline. Although you’re desperate to know where Jax is taking you, you relent and nod anyway.

Sprinkles of cool ocean water land on your face as you lay next to Jax in the sand. He rests on his forearm and peers down at you with eyes that rival the blue of the water a few feet away. Your elbow rests against his shoulder as your hand lazily plays with the ends of his hair. No words need to be exchanged to see the comfort Jax finds in this moment too. He lets his fingertips lazily run over every dip and curve of your cheek while he brushes away a stray strand of hair. Like a cat desperate for pets, you lean into his touch.

“I like it here with you,” you confess.

“It’s beautiful,” he admits with a smile. You’re surprised to see him turn his head to take in the water before he adds, “Really beautiful.”

You recoil slightly in surprise as a cheeky smile spreads across your face, “I never thought I’d hear you talk about the earth’s beauty.”

Jax stays facing away from you for a moment as he swallows the lump in his throat. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re glassy, causing your smile to falter. You cup his bearded cheek, just as he replies, “I never appreciated it before.”

Before you can speak, Jax leans down and presses his lips to yours tenderly. His warm hand cradles your cheek and you give into him in a split second. His soft lips against yours cause your head to spin, and while you don’t know what brought on the sudden emotion, the feeling of his body weight pressing against yours as he begins to relax tells you he found the comfort he was looking for.

Jax pulls back an inch, studies your face and asks, “Are you sure you wanna keep going?”

The blissed out feeling rushing through your veins has you seriously considering his question for a moment.

“You haven’t told me where we’re going. I think I should know so I can make an informed decision.”

A smirk tugs at his lips but he stays quiet. A gleam in his eye appears and you know that mischievous look all too well. Excitement bursts through you and has you springing to your feet, “I wanna see what you’ve got planned,” you decide before taking off running towards his bike that’s parked on the concrete a short distance away.

Joyous laughter spills out of you and only multiplies when you feel Jax’s strong arms encase you and lift you off of the ground. He presses you against his body and smothers any inch of your face he can reach with kisses. Throughout your uncontrollable laughter, you feel the rumble of his chest against your back as he lets out a chuckle of his own. Now that you’re held hostage in his arms, Jax makes sure to take his time walking the both of you back to his bike.

Back on the road, with your arms wound around Jax brings about a special brand of tranquility that only he can provide. It makes this long ride all the more bearable. With your eyes closed, you can feel his back rising and falling gently, bringing your heavy head along with it. His calloused thumb goes back to stroking the soft skin of your hand and it brings a peaceful smile to your face. If you could stay here forever, you would.

As a matter of fact…

You open your eyes to try and find some clue as to where the two of you are headed, but when you find the picturesque landscape of the ocean again, you recoil in confusion. Looking past Jax’s shoulder, you see that same fork in the road: straight ahead or around the bend. Your eyes narrow in on him, “Okay, I don’t know how the hell you’re doing it, but stop stalling!” you laugh over the noise of the motorcycle, “Just take me there already!”

Jax doesn’t reply, he simply takes another right turn instead of continuing down the straight path. “You realize we have to go back to Charming eventually, right?”

Jax keeps his gaze forward and you almost think he doesn’t hear you but when you’re about to call his name, you feel the bike begin to slow down.

“Do you need a break?” you ask once Jax parks the bike in the middle of the empty road. “Let me stretch for a few minutes,” you climb off of the bike and let out a sigh of relief as you walk around. “If you’re lost, you can just admit that, you know?” you poke, “No shame in asking for help.” As soon as you say that though, you realize there’s nobody to ask. There hasn’t been anybody else on the road but you two.

When you stop walking around in circles, you’re met with the frown on Jax’s face. “What’s wrong?” your breath hitches.

Jax hesitates for a moment, then says, “You have to get off here.”

You recoil, looking all around you at the empty expanse, “In the middle of the road? That’s no way to treat a woman, Teller,” you place a sassy hand on your hip and smirk.

Still, Jax’s face holds a frown. Playfulness evaporates and confusion takes its place, “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t take you any further,” his eyes fall to the ground.

“You’re not making any sense,” you try to keep your calm as you feel the sun beam down harder on you.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to spend some time with you,” he shakes his head, getting choked up.

“You are,” you step closer to him, “We are.”

You reach out to cup his face but as you do, he turns his head away and looks forward, repelling your touch. When he revs the engine of his bike, reality sets in. He’s really leaving you here.

“What the fuck, Jax?” you clip, “How am I supposed to get home!?”

“Don’t worry about that,” is all he says before he takes off, down the straight path.

“What the— Jax!” you call as you run after his bike that kicks up dust between the two of you. You try to shield your eyes against it as you try to catch up with him, though you know it’s a pathetic attempt. “Jax!” you cry out again, your chest constricting and eyes filling with tears.

When the dust clears, all that’s left ahead of you is the fork in the road. There’s no sign of Jax but you keep calling out his name. You spin around in every direction, trying to get a glimpse of him — or for anyone for that matter.

Your breathing comes out choppy and a sheen of sweat layers over your body underneath the sun that has become blistering. Your eyes fight to stay open against the sunlight that has gotten brighter and brighter until it becomes blinding. It eclipses the scenery around you and forces you to close your eyes.

When you find the strength to open them again, you see the sun, blurry and moving from left to right.

What the fuck?

You blink a few times and your vision finally focuses on…a penlight.

You wince and turn away from the brightness, “Fuck,” you rasp out.

Your heavy head lolls off to the side where you find an infusion pump standing tall over you in a bleak, white room. It’s not until you see it that you hear it beeping.

A tube is attached to it.

You follow it with your eyes to see the other end of it connected to your forearm.

These aren’t your bedsheets. The pale blue against the sickly white tells you it’s a hospital bed.

When your name is called, you turn your head slowly and carefully against the thin pillow propped underneath your head. Your neck aches but when you finally face forward, you see a doctor standing before you with Chibs and Tig behind him, both wearing relieved expressions.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.

You open your mouth to ask him what the hell is going on, but stop when Tig holds up a hand to the doctor, “Just give us a minute, doc.”

The doctor skims over their kuttes before cutting a glance at you to silently ask is this okay? You nod once and wait for him to leave.

When he does, Chibs pulls up a chair next to your bed and sits down. “How are you, lass?”

“What happened?” you look between him and Tig who stands at the foot of your bed.

“You got in a car accident, honey,” Tig replied from the foot of your bed. “Pretty bad spill. We almost lost you there.”

“Jax.” His name flies out faster than you can piece together why. “Where’s Jax? We were driving together. He was there…” you trail off as you notice the pained looks Chibs and Tig share.

The memory comes flooding back to you: you cruising down the freeway in your car after finally maneuvering through aggravating traffic, some idiot making a last minute decision to switch into your lane, him cutting you off, and then…nothing. The details after that are non-existent, not that they matter since a new weight settles onto your chest, “Oh…yeah,” is all you can say once you realize.

“You had some internal bleeding so they took you into surgery,” Tig continues, navigating the conversation away from that pain point.

“They say you’re gonna be fine,” Chibs assures you despite it, “Just need to rest, is all.”

Disappointment cements itself in your heart as you realize you’ve returned to a world without Jax. The pain still hasn’t budged even though it’s been two years since he passed.

But for the sake of the men standing in front of you right now, you plaster on the best smile you can and say, “That’s good.”

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine #jax teller #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine

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devildom-moss · 1 year ago

Note

You know that hit game FNAF?

I hope you do.

Anyways, could you write headcanons about how well the side characters would be at playing it?

Thanks <3

Okay, so I have never played this game - or really had any interest in playing it, so I watched some guy play one of the games, and I did a bit of research. Sorry this took so long! I did my best, though... I'm finally almost done with requests. I've got two more left (good news for the Solomon lovers).

The others playing FNAF headcanons (dateables + new sides)

Diavolo

Diavolo downloaded it after tuning in to one of Levi’s streams.

He found it amusing. Scary animatronics are so entertaining – although he thinks they’re more cute than scary.

Laughs in the face of jump scares and death. “Haha, look, Barbatos. The big fox one killed me. I’m dead now.” / “That’s very nice, My Lord. Did you finish your paperwork already?” / “. . .uhm.” / “You have ten seconds before we reenact your game. I’ll be the fox.”

Does not care about the lore. He’ll listen and might retain some details when Levi explains it, but he will not dig deep or look for easter eggs.

He kinda sucks, but he has a good time, and isn’t that what matters? He’s not super careful or watchful because it’s just a game. There’s nothing at stake, so he can relax and just mess around.

His favorite character is Foxy, and it’s genuinely as simple as “he’s red, and he’s a pirate.”

Barbatos

He has no interest in playing at first.

Slight aside: I think he’d like horror games, but he strikes me as more of a cinematic, artsy horror game guy – like Bramble or Little Nightmares. He also strikes me as someone who might enjoy farming sims, like he would love Stardew Valley and Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons. Pumpkin Panic would probably be a happy medium.

He’ll play if Diavolo, MC, or Luke ask him to; for anyone else, he’ll politely decline. Surprisingly, he’s not too bad. He’ll probably die once or twice, but he figures out what he has to do pretty quickly.

Barbatos doesn’t react to jump scares, and he avoids them as much as possible. He can play without moving his face – at least until one of the three people who could get him to play compliments him. In that case, he’ll smile a bit wider.

Nothing in that game could be more horrifying to Barbatos than Chuck E. Cheese – a real human world place where people take their children for some unfathomable reason. It’s run by a rat! That’s one of the reasons he won’t play if Solomon asks him too. One time Solomon loaded a Chuck E. Cheese mod version of the game that he asked Levi to make, and Barbatos nearly broke the control from fright.

Luke

The game is a little too scary for his liking, but he still plays it occasionally – just not alone. He gets more paranoid and jumpier for a few days after he plays, but he’ll insist that he’s fine to keep playing if anyone asks.

He’s not great, but he’s still the best out of everyone at Purgatory Hall. He tenses up and just either goes wide-eyed or starts yelling at the characters in the game, but other than that, at least he knows what he’s doing.

Luke likes all the toy versions of the animatronics because they look cute, but the nightmare ones freak him out.

A wave of relief washes over him once he beats a game. He’s so happy that he can finally turn the game off.

Simeon

This poor man does not understand how to play – at all. He forgets which keys do what constantly, so he can’t react fast enough.

It’s a very stressful experience for him when he tries to play – all 10 minutes or so before he loses. Simeon doesn’t get scared so much as he just repeatedly asks what he’s supposed to do with increasing urgency.

Simeon would prefer to watch someone else play, but overall, he isn’t that interested in the game.

However, Simeon does find the lore and story interesting, so if he watches Levi or Luke playing, he’ll ask them questions about the plot.

Somehow, watching Luke play makes him more anxious than when he plays – probably because he doesn’t want Luke to lose and be disappointed.

Solomon

Solomon enjoys it because it’s supposed to be dark and scary, but it doesn’t actually scare him at all – barring a few cheap jump scares. Still, he kind of likes it.

Unfortunately, Solomon kind of sucks. Like Diavolo, he finds the game so amusing that he just chuckles when things get stressful. He’s the type to hear or see something spooky in the game and do nothing just to see what happens. Okay, so maybe Solomon doesn’t suck, he just likes to see how the animatronics are going to get him – a real “oh boy, I sure hope I die” approach.

Solomon loves watching Luke play. It’s hilarious when Luke freaks out – and it’s even funnier to watch Simeon get nervous on his behalf.

Unironically thinks the nightmare versions are cute.

Thirteen

She hates jump scares so much.

She played once, and at the first jump scare, she let out a stifled shriek, pressed esc, put her cat ear headphones down, and left the room (to go find MC, probably).

No thank you. She doesn’t need that stress in her life. She will not try that again. She might watch someone else play but only if MC is there to comfort her or if it’s to laugh at Mammon for being scared.

She’s not afraid of the game, per se, she just doesn’t like being startled. She thinks the characters are cute, in a way - like creepy cute.

Raphael

He thinks it’s stupid, and he doesn’t understand why it’s so popular. Raphael doesn’t care for gaming in general – but especially horror. He doesn’t want to simulate a stressful situation for no reason. If he wanted stress, he’d call Michael.

Raphael will try the game if Luke asks him to, and he does alright, but gets bored right up until he messes something up and dies. You wouldn’t even be able to tell he was in trouble. An immoveable frown sits on his face the entire time.

When Luke asks if Raphael would like to try again, Raphael tells him that if he wants a spear-free computer, he won’t make Raphael play anymore. The message was received.

Raphael will only watch if Luke, Simeon, or Lucifer play, and even then, he would probably pass most of the time.

Mephisto

He doesn’t strike me as much of a gamer, either. If he does play games, he’d probably choose games that are visually stunning and at least semi-relaxing, like Journey or Flower (probably Zelda games too).

He would play it if Luke asked him to or if he wanted to do research on it for journalism purposes.

Mephisto does relatively well, but he likes to investigate a lot, so he gets a bit distracted and takes it slow sometimes. Unfortunately – or fortunately – he has a habit of stopping after losing once. He’ll pick up the game again some other day, but once he loses, he stops that game for the day. On one hand, Mephisto does not allow himself to get pulled into games that he loses, but it makes his progress slow.

When Mephisto plays, he bounces his leg the whole time to contain his anxiety. He appears relaxed, but he flinches at jump scares and his eyes widen when he’s actively trying not to die.

He’s super into the lore – call it journalistic curiosity or just call him a nerd.

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commander-rahrah · 1 year ago

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part II

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6900 (haha.. whoops again) Warnings: suggestive, swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, death, blood drinking, combat

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here

Summary: Set in Act II (pre-Moonrise Towers), Astarion and Tav/Reader wake up in the Last Light Inn after he makes amends. Astarion begins to realize what he is feeling for Tav/Reader is different then anything he has every felt before, and it is a continuous internal battle for him in more ways than one.

Notes: This is still a GN!Reader/Tav in second perspective with no names or y/n. The backstory established in chapter 1 still continues — Reader/Tav is Selûne blessed; noble with only a few specific appearance descriptors used (silver hair/star like freckles). This update is a combination of like 3 little daily headcannon dreams I had while playing the game the first time, and I felt like they all flowed so well together to create what would be a series of moments for Astarion to realize he was indeed falling for Tav before his confession scene that happens after Moonrise towers!

I hope to write more for this specific pairing, as I want to add even more to the confession scene from Astarion. And also the resolution for Reader and Shadowheart. I know how it all ends in my head, but I am loving writing it out and sharing with you all! ♡♡♡

P.S.: I keep slipping little Shadowheart x Karlach moments in... because I love the idea of them being together. But you can take it however you want to LOL.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

Astarion blinked awake, slowly, peacefully. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. He usually bolted awake on instinct after finishing his trance.

But this morning he was greeted by a comfortable silence. Stretching his neck, he smiled as he took in your still sleeping form — hair tousled with sleep. One hand clutching your pillow while the other rested near his own, outstretched. Had you held his hand as you were sleeping? He couldn’t recall once he had fallen into his trance.

As if sensing him looking at you, your eyes fluttered open before your lips curved softly at the sight of him.

It made his half-dead heart flutter.

“You talk in your sleep.” You mumbled with a voice still hoarse and drowsy.

“I do? What did I say?” A knot formed in his stomach as he thought of the possibilities — the damning things he could have said.

“It was mostly muttering. You weren’t very coherent… but you sounded afraid. So I…” You flexed your fingers next to his own hand before trailing off.

You had reached out to comfort him whilst he slept. He swallowed as he looked at both of your hands still stretched out to the middle. Before he pulled it back, intertwining it with his other one laying on chest. “Apologies. I’ve never had a bed partner before… You must have slept terribly.”

“No, not at all. I haven’t sleep this well in months actually.” You said as you stretched your arms over your head, starting to sit up on the soft mattress.

Astarion agreed silently in his head. Not that he would admit it so freely out loud.

The pair of you sat in silence for a moment, your bodies still slightly laid across the mattress as you tried to will yourselves to start the day. Occasionally, he could feel you glance over to him. After mustering up some courage, he looked over at you with his red eyes round and vulnerable.

You studied the features of his face for a moment, before your eyebrows crinkled. “You must be starving. You haven’t fed.”

“No… but I’ll be fine. I’m sure some evil cultist will pull a sword on us and I will get to shred their throat.” He let out his nervous laugh, but the burning in his throat was uncomfortable.

“Astarion. You need but ask—“

“I can’t — I couldn’t.” Not after how he had acted last night. The shame that had ripped through him still lingered, his skin turning hot again as he remembered.

Then you were closing the empty space between, shuffling on your knees across the mattress as you got closer to him. “You need it to survive, you can’t help it that you’re—“

“A monster?” His lips curled, before he flashed his face away from you.

Your voice was quiet, laced with an ache he couldn’t understand. “I don’t think you’re a monster. Have I made you feel like one?”

He thought of your face that fateful night when you learned what he truly was. Surprise had flickered across your face, but never fear or hatred. You had quickly turned the tables as you were then calming him down. As if you hadn’t just woken up to him looming over you, fangs bared like a wild animal.

You hadn’t treated him any differently at all. Perhaps you asked a few curious questions and graced him with some teasing with that sharp tongue of yours. But you had believed him and accepted him as he was. Trusted him.

He wanted to hate you for it. For not seeing him as a wild, dangerous creature. For not just treating him like every other person did when they realized what he truly was.

It would be easier — to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He would never.

“No. You haven’t.”

“Astarion,” You grabbed onto his wrist delicately, your touch featherlight and a bit hesitant. “Feed.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.” You laid back out onto the bed, stretching out your neck for him. He swallowed, already eyeing your pulse point that was beckoning him closer.

His throat bobbed up and down as he pushed his blankets aside and eliminated the lingering space left between you. His fingertips brushed over the puncture wounds that lingered on your neck now — he had committed to always feeding from the same spot, so to avoid further marking your perfect form. His fingers trailed up your jawline, your cheekbones and into your hairline. “You’re too good to me,” He murmured into your skin, pressing a soft kiss on your neck. Surprised by his own intimacy, he pulled back to look you in the eye. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, fisting the sheet you laid on in preparation.

Astarion moved his body half over yours and sunk his teeth in, piercing through the soft flesh until your hot blood rushed into his mouth. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as the sweet taste flooded all of his senses.

But he had become better at it — not as frantic as his first time. Not as desperate. One of his hands lingered in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist carefully as he pulled himself closer into you. The thin fabric of your nightclothes let him feel your warm, soft skin beneath.

The thundering of your heart was echoing in his ears and down into his own chest. But your shallow breaths were acting as a timer. He needed to stay aware of you, to not push you or your body too far. He became increasingly aware of your hands tightening in the sheets and toes curling as you let out a whimper. Both pain and pleasure intermixed.

He realized that so often while he had fed from you, the lines got blurred. Lately, you both had been buried deep in each other whilst he was sucking and lapping at your neck — bringing you both into bliss for very different reasons. And though those moments with you did bring him into euphoria, something no one else’s touch or body had done in a century, it still brought that familiar tremble. A single thought that spoiled the high and made him wish he could peel off his skin.

He didn’t want to cross that line today, not if he didn’t have to.

With a gasp, he pulled away from your neck. He lingered close to it for a moment, breathing in your scent once more before licking at the punctures to stop any lingering blood from pooling out. Sitting back up, his tongue went over his lips and teeth cleaning up the red stains. “Are you alright?”

Your voice was a gentle whisper, purposefully calm to reassure him. “Yes. Are you?”

“Feeling better already.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth carefully, before asking, “Do you need — would you like me to make you feel better?”

“It’s nothing that my amulet and a strong cup of tea won’t fix.” You gripped the edge of the bed as you sat up, fingers already clasping at the golden amulet glittering off of your neck — it glowed slightly at your touch. The colour slowly returned to your cheeks, and the open puncture marks closed — leaving behind the purple-red bruises from his mouth and small scars from his fangs.

“Right. But I got mine… do you want yours too?” His pale fingers swirled nervously on his own knee.

“Astarion, this isn’t transactional.” You said with a shake of your head.

No, that couldn’t be. Everything had a cost, everything was an exchange. He knew that, he lived by that.

“What?” A bewildering look crossed his face, his head cocked to the side. He was sure he hadn’t heard you right.

But you said firmly, “I don’t expect anything in return. Not ever.”

“Then why in the heavens do you let me do this!?” He asked exasperatedly, his voice a little louder than he intended.

You took a large breath before staring back into his eyes, your stare and voice unwavering. “Because I care about you. And you told me heartbreaking stories of how you spent years eating rats and bugs. Being tortured and cut into. I may not ever truly know what you went through Astarion… but I understand. So every moment that I spend with you, I want to show you the opposite.”

“Someone will take advantage of that you know. Take advantage of you —that goodness you insist on.” Your blood in his stomach turned sour, as he knew that someone was him.

“I know. They have and they will. But I will not change my mind on this. And despite what you think or expect, I will not treat you like a monster or a thing. You are a person, albeit a complicated one, but aren’t we all.”

He blinked at your sudden outburst, mouth open slightly as his mind scrambled for some witty response, some quick line. But he failed too as you continued your admission.

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Not just the drawings I gave to you when you told me you wished to see your reflection…,” Those charcoal drawings of his face were carefully tucked into the pages of a leather book in his pack. His most prized possession. “One day, when you are ready to hear it I will tell you.”

Astarion remained silent. He was gobsmacked, his eyes wide. He felt like he was still processing, his mind sputtering and his heart thundering from your confessions. You cared for him? You understood him? And there was more to hear? Whenever he was ready… whatever that meant.

The only attachment he had planned for was your bodies intertwining in a false passion. Not that it had been very fake as of late… But everything else.

Astarion was suddenly very out of his element.

“Have a left you speechless, my dear? Maybe I should make unprompted speeches more often.” You smirked, though your face flushed a brilliant shade. He had been silent for too long, so you had tried to make things light and airy.

He slipped back into his usual cadence as his face broke into a grin, a dark chuckle escaping him. “So vicious, darling. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

He prayed he wasn’t.

• • •

It was a hard few days in the Shadowlands, searching for a way to break the curse and edging ever closer to Moonrise Towers.

It was brutal here, punishing. Each turn more dangerous than the next.

There were no animals for him to feed on, so Astarion sheepishly continued to accept your offers. And there was no exchange as you promised, except quiet gratitude from him and an even more quiet understanding from you.

It was bewildering and mystifying. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why you would choose to do that for him.

He could understand you jumping to the aid and rescue of the Tiefling children, helpless animals, the young couples desperately in love. They were good, they were pure.

But he was none of those things. He was wretched and broken. He craved violence and vengeance. His touch was a curse for you both. And he had used you, manipulated you. And maybe you knew it.

Yet you were still there.

And the cursed lands kept reminding him of that.

Everywhere they looked he seemed to find pairs. Engraved wedding rings enchanted to protect the other. Skeleton couples laid next to each other in their final moments. Like the pair that died on the rooftop, their boney fingers still intertwined. The handwritten poems cataloging the love they held for each other sat next to them, like they had whispered it to each other before their last breaths.

You had found the poems first, a soft look on your face as you read it to the group — your tender voice breaking as you neared the end of the last poem, their final declaration of love even in death. Astarion had to look away as you finished it, his half-dead heart thumping in his chest as he heard you speak the proclamation. He wouldn't allow his mind to even start to imagine you saying such things to him.

Lae’zel’s huffs broke the moment, demanding they get a move on and head back to camp already. The group blinked back to reality, before turning on their heels to go.

You walked ahead of him as the group began to backtrack to camp, tucking the book of poems into your pack with a gentle touch.

Astarion’s thoughts had been consumed by you for sometime now. For longer then he had realized. Perhaps from the moment he met you. He sometimes wondered what about you had kept him so captivated. Why he picked you to feed on, or to be the unsuspecting member of his plan.

He could have picked Wyll — he was noble and honorable, prone to jump into the thick of things to save an innocent or a friend. Loyal to a fault. And he was quite handsome too. Like the princes he dreamed to marry when he was a boy.

But no, it was you he was drawn to. His little moon.

He had realized that he ached for something he had never known, and had never before believed truly existed — that it was only invented to be seen in plays or read in prose and poetry. But now he longed for it with you.

When he was cursed to this life of a bloodsucking monster, of a vampire, he quickly realized that he would always feel hungry. That he could have his fill of blood and still be starving. He could drain this merry party dry and still feel that prick in his throat and pang in his belly.

What he didn’t realize was that the curse Cazador bestowed to him was so much more. Not just an endless bloodlust, not just waking nightmares and endless torment. But that he could long and ache for companionship, attachment, love. But that he would never take it for himself. That he would always be both starving and empty.

Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not after the things he’d done, in this life and his old one. Not after what he had become. He didn’t deserve you — someone so good that a literal goddess had blessed you with their power. Someone whose voice turned gentle as their fingers trailed lines of poetry. Someone who would offer themselves up to a monster, just to make them feel whole again.

You deserved someone bright and unbroken. Who could give and receive touch as freely as breathing air. Who knew that true companionship wasn't some fantasy invented for the arts, that love was more then sex and flattery. Who could one day also lay beside you, willing to accept what fate becomes them and turn to bone. Not a half-dead creature like him.

He knew he would cease his foolish plan. He couldn’t use you as bait nor a shield, not anymore. You deserved better than that. What that meant for him… he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps he should confess to his plan too. As a final way to make you understand what a manipulative bastard he truly was. To push you away. It would hurt less than to confess what his heart wished for, but his mind knew he could never have.

The path the group was walking along was overgrown with thorns and vines. A specific darkness plagued the route, and it was barely dulled from the magical glow of the party’s several spells and enchantments. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his red eyes darting around them — searching.

It happened in an instant — the shadows silent and invisible until it was too late. The creatures appeared with a sudden flash, long curling claws slashing into your side — catching you unawares. Your shout of pain alerted the rest of the party, everyone drawing their weapons quickly.

Astarion went to the enchanted daggers at his side, hurling them through the air with easy precision as they found their target. They boomeranged back to him, sliding into his waiting palms. He had gotten rid of one, but there were way more than usual. Wherever they had stumbled into, it was not good.

“Shit!” Karlach swore loudly as more shadows appeared after the ones they downed. Continuing to converge around you, drawn to your huffs of pain and blood. Your blood, the scent that was usually so sweet in his nose but now had dropped an anchor in his stomach. There was too much of it, much too fast.

“Watch out!” Wyll shouted in warning to the vampire, before sending several of his powerful red blasts soaring out of his hands.

With a glance to his side, the rogue twirled around Lae’zel’s strong, cleaving swing with ease before releasing his daggers once again at the creatures advancing on you. But he threw them a moment too late — their clawed strikes sinking deep into you before the magical daggers ripped through them and back into his hands.

The sound of your knees crashing into paved stones made Astarion's teeth chatter. His heart lurched into his throat, your name choking out of him as he screamed. He had never moved so fast — it almost seemed like he had blinked across the battlefield like Gale so often did.

“RAHHHHH!” The booming roar of Karlach echoed in his ears as she raged from seeing you fall. The rest of the party converging on the remaining shadow creatures attempting to surround your unconscious body, moving in sync with each other with a deadly precision.

Knowing that those creatures were being taken care off, Astarion fell to his knees next to you — his pale hands grabbing onto your shoulders. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You didn’t stir, your head and limbs shaking loosely as he moved you. He dragged your head onto his lap, before unbuckling the holster on his belt. He tipped the the precious red liquid from the healing potion between your lips. He said your name, running his thumb across your face.

You didn’t stir.

“Darling?”

His red eyes studied you, your face looking lack luster and eyes remaining closed. Your hands laying limply at your side, unmoving. He couldn’t hear the familiar thrum of your heart.

No, no, no, no.

“Astarion?!” Gale shouted, his voice exhausted and strained as he split his concentration just enough to check on you two.

The world tilted as the wizard instead shouted for you. But you couldn’t respond... because you were —

“You can’t die, dammit!”

Suddenly, you were all bathed in a golden light for a moment as Shadowheart brought down a thunderous strike of radiant energy, defeating the remaining shadow creatures as they shrieked in pain. Then the sound of thudding metal and footsteps as the party surged forward to you, panting for breath.

Wyll’s eyes went wide with worry as he saw you unmoving, his hand covering his mouth,“ Are they—?”

Astarion looked up at his party with bleary eyes, his hands trembling as he held your face on his lap. “They won’t wake up. I tried, I gave them a potion and they—“

“Oh gods.” The Blade choked out, his face immediately crumpling.

Gale shook his head, immediately dumping the contents of his side satchel onto the dirt. Scrambling through them, “No, no, we can do more! I’ll have a scroll or, or — Shadowheart!!”

The cleric had remained in the back, her face half covered in shadow. Her nostrils flared as she looked down at you. But she made no move forward.

Astarion’s red eyes pierced through her, before narrowing, “Bring them back.”

She didn’t move, her face blank. “My goddess will not allow it.”

“Princess! What are you talking about?” Karlach tried to grab her hand, but Shadowheart pulled away. “It’s Giggles!

Her black braid swayed back and forth as she shook her head, taking one step back. “She is Shar’s enemy. She is my enemy.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your goddess.” The vampire spat, his lips curling, “Bring. Them. Back.”

“I—" A moment of hesitation as her voice shook and her eyebrows furrowed.

Gale let out a shaky breath, his fingers pushing back his long hair. His brown eyes were shining with fear. “I have no scroll, I—“

“We are running out of time!” Lae’zel finally spoke out, glaring at Shadowheart. “Do something now, istik.”

Astarion voice was deadly, his fangs baring as he shout out. “If you don’t do this. If you let them die— I will hunt you down and become your worst nightmare. I will fucking haunt you! BRING. THEM. BACK.”

“Shadowheart, please.” Karlach whispered, finally getting ahold of the half-elf’s hand.

Conflict flickered across her face, before she stepped forward. She crouched next to you, bowing her head as her hands began to glow with golden light. Her small hands rested on your unmoving chest, before the light disappeared into you.

A loud gasp escaped you as come back to life. Your hands finding purchase in the dirt as your eyes snapped open wide with fear and uncertainty.

Astarion let out a loud breath, tipping his head back with a silent thank you to anything that was listening.

The sigh of relief echoed throughout the entire party. Minus the dark haired cleric, who stood up quietly. Her throat bobbed as a hard to read look crossed her face and she backed away.

“I— what, what happened?” You asked groggily, your eyebrows meeting in the middle from confusion.

“You scared us Giggles.” Karlach sniffed, “Thought we’d lost you for a second there…”

“I… I was gone?” You craned your neck, looking up at Astarion, alarm etching every feature of your face.

He opened his mouth, but no words could come out. Fear and panic still held a tight grasp around his throat.

“For but a moment.” Gale stepped forward, his voice practiced but reassuring. “Shadowheart brought you back.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as you fought instant tears, before you croaked out, “Thank you.”

A quiet grunt is all you got in reply from her.

You sat up gingerly, Astarion grabbing your elbow to steady you. Your blood and the strange ichor from the shadowy creatures was clingy to your clothes. You were shivering — a combination of the cold and from the knowledge that just mere moments ago you had been dead. The vampire had undone the clasp of his cloak and was wrapping it around you before you could say no.

“I think it’s best we head to camp. We will take the paths we know.” Gale spoke up first, gathering the contents of his satchel that he had spilled across the ground.

Karlach took your pack from you, slinging it across her back with ease. “Fangs, help me get them up.”

He rushed to his feet, gently pulling you up with him. You swayed for a moment, but your fingers tightly found his forearm to keep you steady. “Thank you,” You breathed.

Him and Karlach slowed their pace to match your weak steps as you walked between their sides, both of their arms wrapped around your waist. Gale was leading the way with Wyll at his side, his staff a shining beacon as the two kept their heads on a constant swivel. Lae’zel brought up the rear, her sword remained out as her eyes narrowed on the huddled form of Shadowheart. The cleric’s arms were hugging herself as she kept her eyes on her boots.

Astarion couldn’t help but count your heartbeats, the rhythm now steady and thumping like normal. He needed to recommit the sound to memory. If only to drown out the reoccurring one of hearing it stop.

• • •

You were much quieter than usual, the lute you would strum by the campfire abandoned. Your eyes were blank as you stared into the flames, licking and dancing across the logs. You were miles away, your half-full dinner plate forgotten at your feet and now licked clean by the camp dog and owlbear.

Shadowheart and Karlach had almost immediately retired to the latter’s tent — still in there now, speaking in hushed whispers that even Astarion’s elven ears could not pick up. Lae’zel was sitting on her perpetual watch, her sword balanced across her knee as she polished it. Wyll sat closest to the fire, using the warm light to inspect a map of Moonrise Towers you had found today — making marks and notes, strategizing the best way to rescue the lost Tieflings and his father. Gale was dutifully at your side, sharing the log bench and reading quietly — his mage hand holding the book up for him and turning the pages.

Astarion watched from a far, sitting at his own tent. He was not interested in feigning conversation. But he wasn’t interested in his own activities either — the book he had open on his lap had been on the same page since he first sat down. Instead, he was watching you carefully.

The scene from earlier in the day was repeating in his mind, he couldn’t shut it out. Not just the sound of your heart stopping, or the scent of your life blood draining out of you. But how you had clutched to him as you journeyed back to camp. That the trembling in your lip would stop when he looked over to give you reassurance.

You had slipped into a deep shock when you arrived in the familiar comforts of camp, almost instantly dissociating once you breached your group’s makeshift home. Gale had swooped in then, his mother-hen behavior taking over as he ordered you to change while he cooked.

So, the vampire had slipped away. Disappointed to no longer be needed. Wishing he too could dissociate or play healer or anything, something to just stop his racing thoughts and pained heart.

His pointed ears perked as you spoke.

“I’m going to go for a walk along the river.” You said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had been settled around the camp for hours. You braced your hands on your knees as you stood up from the bench.

“Do you need company?” Gale asked from your side, already starting to stand up to join you.

“I’m okay, just going to the dock… to collect my thoughts.” You didn’t notice the hurt in the wizard’s eyes as you rejected him. No, your eyes were searching around the camp, looking for something. Someone.

They settled on Astarion.

He raised a single white eyebrow, your eyes never straying from his. A silent invitation, maybe? To join you on the dock.

You gave the smallest indication, a tilt of your head that anyone else would have missed. Then you were off, heading across the camp before turning toward the tree line closest to the river.

He waited for a moment, as to not make it obvious. Perhaps to spare Gale’s feelings, that you had silently asked him to go, and not the wizard.

“Off to get lucky?” Wyll asked as the vampire marched by.

“Wh—what?” He stuttered, steps faltering as he turned to look at his companion still sat on the dirt by the fire.

“Gonna try your luck with a hunt?” The warlock rephrased, looking up from his stacks of maps and parchment.

“Oh. Yes. That’s it, ‘hunting’.” He waved his hands and did a funny little bow, before turning on his heel. When had he become such a terrible liar?

With a practiced lazy grin, he bid the rest of his companions a quick farewell before following the trail into the tree line as you did.

The docks weren’t far from camp. A few minutes journey down a well-walked dirt path through the sparse woods led him to the quiet river.

You were already sat on the wooden dock, your boots half hazardously tossed behind you and your feet hanging in the water. Your head was tipped back, arms stretched behind you as you seemingly basked in the silence. Astarion made purposeful loud steps, causing the wood planks to creak. To announce himself, to avoid startling you.

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Instead you merely opened your mouth to speak, “Hello, Astarion.”

Oh, how he loved it when you said his name like that. Like you had been waiting for only him.

“Darling.” He drawled from behind, standing carefully next to you.

You turned your face so you were now looking up at him instead of the dark sky, “Thank you for knowing I wanted you here. I didn’t want to announce it.“

A smirk quirked his lips, “Good, I can still read you then.”

You looked at him quizzically, “Have you been having difficulty doing that lately?”

“You…, He cleared his throat, “You have been keeping me on my toes, yes.”

A cheeky smile spread across your face, your eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, you must hate that.”

Yes, he did. He rolled his red eyes at you, “I certainly haven’t been bored since I met you.”

You both let out chuckles, before you patted the spot next to you on the dock. “Sit with me?”

He joined you, removing his own boots and rolling up his pants to sink his legs in the water. But then he paused, his pale feet hovering above the blue water. “What creatures lurk in this river, do we know?”

“Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

Astarion huffed before placing his feet in. He hissed from the cold temperature, but after a moment it felt refreshing on his tired and sore feet. A relaxed sigh escaped him, and his shoulders lowered slightly.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Then he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but was careful to not get caught. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked at the question. “I— I’m not sure how to answer that. Okay, I think. Are you?”

“You scared me today.” He admitted without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your fingers kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to… Just never do that again, ok? I know you did nothing wrong and you were just standing there but don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again.”

Your brows met in the middle, your mouth turning into a frown. “The path we are on is a dangerous one, Astarion… I can’t—“

“No. Nothing can happen to you. I won’t allow it.” His voice cracked, so he swallowed some of the emotion down. “So stay at the back, behind me, I don’t know. But I will not witness what I did today again, you understand me?”

“Okay,” You submitted with a nod, “It’s all still very hazy for me…”

“It was terrifying. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.” He chewed his inner lip, surprised at the confession that had just hurled out him.

A haggard breath left you, before you abruptly stood up. You started to fumble with the buckle of your pants, staring out into the river as you took it off and tossed it behind you.

He watched you with confusion, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I want to, I don’t know, feel alive. I need to reset. I can’t get the feeling I had when I came back out of my chest.” Astarion knew that feeling, had felt that feeling. And it still resurfaced sometimes.

You peeled off your shirt next, then your trousers, the clothes falling in a small pile at your feet — until you were suddenly stark naked standing on the edge of the dock.

Astarion did his best to hide his awe at you, standing confidently above him — completely nude and bathed in the dim evening light. You stood there for a moment, your chest rising and falling as you took quick breaths. “Well?”

With a sudden leap you jumped into the water, a joyful yelp escaping you as you splashed into it.

“Have you gone mad?!” He asked after you, holding his hands up in defense of the cold water that splashed from your movements.

“Yes! Join me in my madness.” You said with a loud laugh, the musical sound ringing in his ears. You threw your head back, your bare chest exposed as you flopped backwards and began to float in the water.

He looked at you like you were demented. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Astarion, come in. There are no ghouls or creatures. It’s nice.”

He set his jaw, his words coming through his gritted teeth. “I can’t — I haven’t swam in two hundred years.”

“Oh.” You realized, before standing in the water to show him, “It’s like the baths we took near the grove. You can touch the bottom, I’ll help you.”

His red eyes couldn’t resist roaming your wet figure, backlit in the evening light in front of him. Then he snapped his eyes away, turning his nose up, “You’re intolerable.”

“You love it. Now get that stubborn, pale ass in here.”

The vampire huffed as he stood up, “Hmmph, it’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know. Or everyone would reconsider why they condone your behavior.”

You flashed him a smile, before turning around and dunking your head into the water — giving him privacy to undress.

The vampire slid off his clothes, carefully piling them next to yours before staring down into the dark blue water.

Fun. That’s what you were searching for. Just a moment, a thrill. It wasn’t a distraction like what he had tried to do in the Last Light Inn. It was.. an escape. He could do that for you. It was probably one of the few things he could afford you.

“Oh hells,” He hissed through his teeth before jumping in after you.

Even as a cold-blooded creature, the water was a shock to his whole system. He felt goosebumps cover all of his flesh, his muscles drawing taught from shock. But as he surfaced and saw the delight flickering in your eyes, he instantly warmed. “Are you happy now, you wretched little thing?”

You didn’t reply, instead grinning and nodding childishly.

“Good.” He smiled back, “Now, what?” His feet could indeed reach the bottom, he stood in it, the water gently moving over his shoulders and collarbones in the lazy current. It was nice, but foreign — a sensation he was still trying to grow used to after all this time.

You bit your lip and shrugged, beginning to swim in a slow circle around him. Before sending a large splash of water over him.

“My hair!” He cried out, before his eyes narrowed and settled on you. “You minx, you’ll pay for that.”

Another laugh escaped you as you tried to outmaneuver him, your wet arm slipping through his hand as he tried to grab you. So he instead launched a counter wave back at you, splashing water across the back of your head.

“Muahaha!” The vampire let out, his grin spreading across all of his features.

Your smile was contagious, addicting. He could feel strain on his face from his own smile as he laughed with you, the longest a genuine one had been plastered on his face for centuries. The two you played in the shallow river, splashing and shrieking like children. It was liberating, he had never felt more free. Not even the day when he had realized he hadn’t perished from the sun’s attention. This was somehow better.

His wet, pale hand caught your wrist as you went to slide past him in your game of chase. You swallowed slowly, your plump mouth hanging open slightly as he tugged your closer to him — drawing you nearer until you were face to face.

Your eyes were hooded, staring at his mouth. But not possessively, not with the hunger and objectification he was used to. But with longing? How long had you been looking at him like this?

He tilted his head forward, meeting you halfway as yours lips pressed into his carefully. A soft groan escaped you as you felt him kiss you back.

His pale fingers grabbed your naked waist, pulling you into him so your bodies were flush — your chest cold and hard from the water pressed into his own. His fingertips dug into your fleshy side as you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth to him. Your hands trailed up chest, your fingers tips playing with the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck and moving into his hair. Your touch gentle yet firm — it was maddening.

It had been sometime since you’d touched each other like this, but there was something different tonight. Arousal was flooding through him, his lower belly tightening and warming as he hardened against your thigh. Gods, did he want you right now. And not to perform, not his almost ritualistic routine for Cazador’s prey. He just wanted you, needed you for only himself.

As he felt you push into him more, a low moan escaped him.

But then he felt a familiar shiver travel up his spine, disgust — not at you, or him. But at the tainted act. Haunting memories of back alleys and side rooms flooded through him.

Gods dammit.

He had wanted this — to kiss you, to be with you. To indulge for just a moment in you, even though he knew he could never truly have you. A temporary bliss to sate his thoughts of you, his need for you.

Loathing burned through him for ruining the moment. So, instead he tensed his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued. He could persist, he insisted to himself as his hold on your waist tightened.

You two had barely kissed twice more before you pulled away, completely breathless. You caught your breath, before looking up into his eyes, “I don’t want to go any further tonight, I’m sorry.”

He froze, before his fingers immediately left your waist. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! You’re wonderful. Just… a lot happened today, and I’m still overwhelmed I think. I hope you understand.”

He understood more than he could bare to say. “Of course.”

He’d never thought to just ask to stop. He never had the choice, the free will to. If he stopped he would have no prey for his master. Then he would be punished. And the punishment that Cazador would doll out for him was a much worse abuse then enduring the practiced torture he did with his victims. So he had just done it…

But you had asked. You had listened to yourself, and your wants and had stopped. You were vulnerable and honest in a moment of passion. You trusted him to listen.

You trusted him.

“And don’t apologize. Not for that.”

You pecked him on the cheek — your lips incredibly soft, it was only a puff of air across his skin. “We should probably head back — the others might be worried.”

He blinked back to reality, nodding along as different thoughts and memories flooded him. “The others, right.”

You both got dressed quietly, your clothes sticking to your damp skin and hair. You began to walk back towards the forest line, the dirt path leading back to camp looming in front of you.

Astarion glanced over at you, but blinked as he had realized he caught you staring at him. Your cheeks flushed brightly, before you ducked your head.

“Gale told me about what you did for me today.” You said quietly as you walked, your eyes fixed on the trail and hands twirling nervously at your side.

His steps slowed behind you, “Oh.”

You turned to face him, your eyes soft yet wide, “Shadowheart may have cast the spell. But you… you’re the reason why I’m here. Thank you for fighting for me.”

His heart thudded, as he felt an overwhelming urge to go to you. To hold you like he had in the river. His fingers twitched at his side as he instead swallowed and spoke, “Of course. You would have done the same.”

The sounds of the camp began to trickle down the trail, soft chatter by the fire could be heard from here. Surely meaning that any thing said between you now could also be overheard. You seemed to realize this as well as you turned back to him one last time.

“Astarion,” You called back. Every time you said his name, it was like a piece of him that he had long forgotten about came back to life. “I’m very glad I met you.”

He thought of all the moments that led to this one. Dying in that dirty, dark alley. Clawing his way out of his own grave. Two hundred years of misery, and begging, and torture. To the nautiloid and the god damn worm slithering in his head. And then to you — under him with his knife to your throat on the cliffside, flushed and dancing at the Tiefling party, sleeping soundly next to him in the inn. And to now, staring at him with your soft eyes and smile, your sweet laughs and touch still echoing in his ears and across his skin.

Maybe the gods had answered his calls after all — if he had been fated to meet you along.

“So am I,” He smiled back.

Continue to part III here!

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bronx-bomber87 · 1 year ago

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Happy Saturday wonderful fandom :) Ahhh the next in the line of goodies to come. This one doesn’t have a ton for them but doesn’t mean there isn’t absolute gems in it. So it'll be a littler shorter than the last one ha Also Aaron is amazingly hilarious in this episode. I love him to death. Let us get started.

5x09 Take Back

We start off with Tim being Watch Commander while Grey is miserable in NYC ha Things get immediately awkward when Chris arrives. Still clueless as ever asking Tim of all people about Lucy’s taste in houses. I mean if you don’t know her taste at this point should you really be buying a house together? Tim looks intrigued when he says he needs his opinion then it gets so awkward when it's about a house...

Tim is so very uncomfortable when he asks his opinion. Knowing this is going NOWHERE for Chris. I’ll never forget this hilarious post I saw about this scene after it premiered. I couldn't find it this time around. Had the lyrics from anti-hero by Taylor swift. ‘It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem it’s me.’ You ain’t ever getting that house with her because of that man sitting there LOL Idk why that post made me laugh so hard but it did. It stuck with me clearly haha

It’s so very weird Chris comes to Tim for this. It's obvious he knows Tim knows her the best. Crazy to me he's not threatened at all by that fact. Clearly he isn’t if he’s coming to Tim for advice. Blows my mind how blind he is. Lucy comes in asking what they’re talking about? Chris tells her he found THE house. Lucy looking as uncomfortable as ever at this news. Saying he's going to call the realtor and call her later. Lucy's high pitched 'I can't wait...' Couldn't be more awkward if she tried.

He gives her a kiss on the cheek and leaves. Tim giving that good ole fake Sanford smile when he does. Tim's face crack me up. Like he stole your girl and you have no idea you putz heh Also just so on brand for Chris to not see how uncomfortable Lucy was. He’s been blind their entire relationship It’s unreal. You can also see how much Tim hates seeing him kiss her. Even if it’s on the cheek.

It’s almost a grimace really as he watches it. Probably thinking of all the ways he could easily kick his scrawny ass haha That fake smile begging for Chris to leave the room so this awkwardness can pass. How Chris doesn’t pick up on either of these vibes I don't know. But then we call him the clueless clown for a reason don’t we?

Lucy doesn’t look comfortable till Chris leaves the office. Tim asking 'How the breakup is going?' HA Cleary it's going well Timothy...Lucy tells him she’s in the planning stages. Just reviewing the literature. Classic Lucy response. Wanting to plan this out completely before pursuing it. Tim telling her a psychology journal isn’t going to tell her how to break up with Chris. I mean he's not wrong.... It's just a bandaid you have to rip off even if its uncomfortable as hell.

He’s so matter of fact with his wording. Using a sports metaphor to explain how she should do it. Makes me wonder if he's actually done this before? Ha She’s adorable in her reply of saying ‘Playbill?’ She truly has no idea what he’s talking about. It’s too funny. It's comical really Tim giving her advice on how to break up with Chris. So you know he can date her haha

Tim has been very patient in all this but you can see him getting a little antsy about it. It is interesting how full circle this moment is. He set them up in 4x12 and now he’s ready to help break them down in this 5x09. Tim is just so ready for Lucy to do this cause he’s anxiously waiting to be with her. It’s pretty damn cute if you ask me. He’s trying to be patient but also is like can we hurry this along a bit?

Lucy says that’s too cruel she wants to handle it her way. No matter how this goes down Chris is going to be hurt though. It's how breakups go there is alway someone who walks away more upset about it. Her empathy taking the front seat in this decision. Where Tim just wants her to rip the bandaid off. Get this over with ASAP.

This is where we see little bit of Tim’s self doubt kick in. It's written all over his face when he asks her if she's having doubts? Worried she’s delaying this because she is having second thoughts about him. About them. Lucy immediately squashes his anxiety with her reply. Shooting massive heart eyes his way as well. She wants Tim to know she’s all in just like he is. That there is nothing for him to worry about.

I love how sure Lucy looks when she tells him 'No, I'm not'. She is so certain this is what she wants. Needs him to know this as well. Not a doubt in her mind about this whole thing. She just has stuff to work out with this breakup first. The certainty in her eyes is everything. Nothing makes more sense to her in this moment than him.

That confidence of hers is why Tim relaxes the way he does above. His whole body draining of the tension he was carrying. His cute smile saying ‘Good.’ Could this man be more of a soft puppy for her? Look at him. That hope and excitement back in his eyes. Lucy replying in kind with her own 'In love 'gaze. They’re both all in and it makes my heart very happy. Also they’re having a full on flirt session in Grey’s office for everyone to see.

I adore Tim being so open and vulnerable in this scene. Making sure she wasn’t backing out. The same Tim who couldn’t communicate in his other relationships to save his life. But with this he is checking in with her. Letting Lucy know his stress about her not breaking up with Chris yet. Lucy assuages his worries instantly. When it’s the right one the harder stuff seems a little easier. More natural. Lucy sensed that panic and instantly calms him with her words and heart eyes. Gah so good. Look at these idiots in love. I just adore them so very much.

This next scene with Aaron is pure gold. I love him so much he cracks me up. Never expected him to be as funny as he is. He notes how quiet she is being and is asking what's going on? Lucy letting him know she needs to break up with Chris. First off like to say we are all Aaron when he says ‘Finally.’ To her breaking up with Chris. Yesssss and Hallelujah finally breaking up with the clown. Nails it even further when he says Chris was never on her level. I mean yeah he never was. Not ever.

Aaron is speaking for the whole Chenford fandom in this moment LOL Chris had nine lives with her and they've finally run out. Aaron's reaction is the best part of this scene. I love that he knew where Lucy's heart was and it obviously wasn't with Chris. He knows it’s with Tim 100 percent. Like most people in their world do. Tim is her equal in so many ways it’s insane. Chris could never compare as Lucy figured out last ep.

Aaron tells her they can practice her breaking up with him. So it’s much easier when the time comes. It’s not a bad idea tbh. This is where it gets hilarious. Lucy brings up them looking at houses. Aaron kinda judging her for letting get as far as looking at houses. Telling her 'Yikes....' HA Tell us how you really feel my man. Lucy reprimanding him saying that is not helpful....Oh Aaron I love you so very much.

Lucy starts her speech trying to find her footing in what she is trying to say. She looks over at Aaron in the middle of it and see he is crying. lol If you didn't laugh at this scene you're dead inside. It's so damn funny. Lucy asking him WTF he is doing? Aaron telling her he is channeling Chris's pain LMFAO I mean he's not wrong she had to be prepared for an emotional response. It's just the way he went about this that is so hysterical. He is having way too much fun with this.

Telling her they should do angry next. I'm rolling. Lucy is doing some channeling of her own. She is channeling her man in this scene. It’s so funny. So aggravated with his role playing in this. Wondering why she asked for his advice in the first place? hahaha They then get a call about a 'Navi'. Lucy is so confused. Aaron geeks out and says it's from Avatar. Tells Lucy she should ask if it’s full grown. The look she gives she is channeling her husband again so much. ‘Aaron, it’s a fictional character...’ LMAO

I really love this ending scene with them. Aaron wants to do one more practice run with her. Lucy tells him she doesn’t need it. (Oh but you do....) That she’s just going to go with her gut on this one. It sounds like a solid idea in the moment but it's honestly the worst thing to wing it. Especially when it's something this intense.

When something is this emotional the right words tend not to just come to you IMO. They sure don't for me. I love him being brutally honest with her about it LOL Saying it’s a terrible idea. That he likes the sentiment but this isn't going to end well. I mean he’s not wrong as we will see here in a bit. Lucy once again channeling Tim in this moment. Cutting him off from saying anything else and just tells him good night haha

We get to the breakup scene we’ve all been waiting for. Lucy is bumbling and awkward. Not knowing where to start. Chris once again blind as a bat. He has no idea why she’s acting this way. Lucy curses Aaron for being right about this moment. Saying she should practiced more LOL I adore her panicking and defaulting to Tim’s playbook advice haha idk what’s funnier that or her being shocked Chris knows what she means by saying that.

All that prep and thinking this out and she went with her man’s advice on how to end this. This makes me giddy to no end. I bet you it’s cause Tim was on her mind from the minute Chris entered the apartment. My guess is that is part of the reason she fell back on his advice. Literally the most Lucy Chen thing ever to use it then be surprised Chris knew what she meant. I love her sfm haha

Chris stumbles around shocked as hell she’s breaking up with him. He seems so very blindsided by the whole thing. I mean if the man opened his eyes for once he wouldn’t be that shocked…But this Chris we are talking about. Lucy tries to get him to talk to her more. Saying they should sit down and talk this out. Chris just bails not wanting to talk at all. Not wanting to fight for her at all. Just takes off like a child who didn't get what he wanted.

Now I’m ok with this. Obviously we all are. Just goes to show you Tim was willing to fight for her and Chris wasn’t in the end. Lucy said it was over and he just left. I mean he wasn’t wrong there isn’t much to talk about out. She doesn’t love him. But still no fight in him at all after Lucy does this. Just folds like a cheap suit. A clueless clown from beginning to end...

We’ve reached the scene of the ep that made us all swoon and squee. I remember feeling so anxious to get to this scene. I had to re-watch the episode to truly appreciate it all. I was too antsy to get back to them sharing a screen. I was so damn giddy this was the place we were in. They spent the majority of this episode apart. So all I could focus on was her coming back to him in this moment.

I adore Lucy coming back into the station to talk about the breakup right away. Needing to share this news with him as soon as she could. I love that she returned to work just to tell him about this. So anxious to get back to Tim after it was done. Lucy wanted him to know as soon as she could it was over with Chris. Knowing he was just as anxious as she was about the breakup. It's sweet how he tentatively approaches her when she says why she is back.

He wants to be understanding about it. Seeing if she wants to talk about it more. Doesn't just want to jump the gun and bulldoze her feelings about the matter. Lucy isn't there to chat about that though. She wants to cash in on him asking her out. Because she couldn’t wait another second without him asking her out again. They're both so damn nervous and sweet in this scene. Fidgety and excited about the prospect of their future. Lucy messing with her hands the entire time as she explains the breakup. Tim keeping his distance while she explains it.

Gah I love her fidgeting near her ring as she approaches Tim. Anxiously awaiting for him to ask her out again. Lucy’s nervous way of reminding him to ask her again like they decided. How she looks into the bullpen before approaching Tim. Saying ‘So…’ He looks nervously excited by her doing this. Eric the king of expressions strikes again. The way his eyes go to check the bullpen as well before refocusing on her. He isn't sure what she is going to do in this moment.

The entire station can see into this office. He looks so friggin cute in his nervousness. I love that that she makes him nervous like this it's so adorable. Lucy gains her confidence and looks him directly in the eye flirty as can be. Asking him if there's something he wants to ask her? The whole purpose of her returning to work is to secure their date. Telling him about the breakup was the catalyst yes. But truly she was wanting to hear him ask her out again.

Tim see's her confidence and starts shaking off his own nerves. Replying in a sassy manner. Their banter the undercurrent of this moment going forward. Fueling them with the courage to say what they want to. Tim can't help being playful and sassy with her replying ‘I can’t remember.’ Doing that cute smirk of his that I love so very much. Wanting to push her buttons a little because well it's Tim.

Lucy is affectionately violent in her reply haha Look at her she is beaming with adoration. She loves this goober in front of her so very much. ‘Don't make me hurt you.’ Because she would legit hurt him if she had to in this moment haha I saw a funny parallel from this to her ripping that tape off in 4x07. She'll do it Timothy LOL Don't test your girl.

I love how he gets serious after she says this. It's the way he slowly moves towards her. That intent look on his face in the first one. *fans self* gah. Then in the second one the way he melts for her. In a way only Lucy gets to see. Asking with as much giddiness and excitement as I ever seen in this man. "Do you wanna go out on a date? Look at this puppy of a man. He is beyond excited to ask her this question again. Knowing now he will get a yes with no stipulations this time around. There is still a little nervous hesitation in his delivery which is precious.

Lucy is bursting at the seams with absolute giddiness when she replies ‘Yeah. I do.’ So happy he's asked her again. How one looks when the man they love asks them out. There’s so much to love about this scene. He’s asking her out in the Watch Commanders office. I love that sfm. Both ecstatic they’re finally going on a date with nothing holding them back now. They’re at work and have to restrain themselves from being too obvious. Which you know they suck at heh

My god anyone looking in on them in that last gif could see how in love these two are. They're so excited just to be around each other right now. The way they’re just standing there looking into each other’s eyes with the dopiest in love smiles. I cannot. I remember thinking the break was gonna take forever to get through. What a time to be alive watching this the first time I remember. LOL

~~~

Side notes -non Chenford

Is it just me or does John have more chemistry with Genny than he does Bailey? Thought I’ve always had from this ep. Probably just me but I always thought they had solid chemistry.

Greys have a ROUGH SL in NYC.

Celina also has a hard time in the ep. With their suspect dying in custody. She has a tough rookie year.

68 notes · View notes

satansapostle6 · 1 year ago

Text

Kids | Rodrick Heffley

Spotify Playlist Link

Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content. Violence.

“The Family Legacy”

“The Date”

On Saturday, the day Löded Diper was playing at a backyard party, Rodrick felt Bill and Sara couldn’t show up soon enough.

“Fuck, they’ll already be ten minutes early,” he muttered to himself as Chris and Ben helped the roadies load equipment into the van.

Rodrick was dressed for the performance of his life, as well as the band’s gig at the party. He waited anxiously for Bill and his younger sister, praying Sara would be impressed by him once she showed up. But when she did show up, he realized it was him that should be impressed.

Sara was truly a vision; the ultimate rock star affiliate you’d find lounging around in an exclusive green room somewhere. Although she only wore a pair of Joe’s Jeans and a black vest top with nothing under it, to him, she might as well have been covered in gold and platinum. She shone, in a way that wasn’t necessarily visible to the eye.

She was just that cool, with her shoulder length blonde hair, and tiny purse that only held a wallet, cigarettes, and lighted.

“Hey,” Sara said softly, hand on her purse string as she stood next to Rodrick.

“Hey,” a small, nervous laugh escaped as he watched Bill join the other boys in loading equipment. “You look… really good.”

“So do you,” she smiled, appreciating the pocket chain and South Pole shirt with a nod. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

“Uh… Yeah,” Rodrick blurted out honestly, hoping that was the right call.

“I like it,” she beamed, making him blush.

“Haha!” he exclaimed excitedly, cursing himself in his head. “So, everything’s pretty much good to go. You wanna ride with us?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sara nodded, as he leaned in playfully.

“I volunteered to drive on the way there, just so you can sit up front with me and not get crushed to death by a drum,” he murmured.

“Sounds like a plan,” she nodded. “Who’s DD?” she wondered.

“Chris is. He’s the only DD that can ever stay the DD,” Rodrick explained, not even looking away from her as Ben tossed him the keys to the van.

“Alright, let’s rock and roll!” Bill shouted.

He looked extra proud of himself as he kept his eyes on Sara. The two of them hopped into the van, as Bill and the other guys all filled into the back with everything.

“So, how do you feel about being Löded Diper’s hottest groupie?” Rodrick asked with a goofy grin.

“I’m not a groupie,” Sara crossed her arms in amusement as she sat beside him.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Rodrick leaned forward, his face barely an inch from hers, “For tonight… whatever you say goes,” he said breathily.

“Oh, I like that,” she remarked.

It didn’t take long once they arrived at the party for her to begin attracting unwanted attention, just as Rodrick had feared. He was truthfully worried that, while he was onstage, someone would steal Sara’s attention away from him for the rest of the night. But luckily, she certainly didn’t seem willing to give anyone but Rodrick her attention.

“You guys can set up over here,” Andy, the guy whose party it was, showed the boys. “And you can come set up over here,” he grinned as she tried to walk past him.

“Sorry, not interested,” Sara said sweetly.

Andy just frowned in response, still looking at Sara like he wasn’t quite ready to let her go yet. Rodrick made a beeline over to her, almost panting as he threw his arm over her, lifting up his sunglasses.

“Sorry, man. She’s with the band,” he grinned, as Sara turned to smile at him as the guy finally left.

Not knowing how to keep with the momentum of the sweet moment, Rodrick nervously left a soft peck on her cheek, not sure what was appropriate.

“I’ll do you one better.”

Appreciating the gesture, Sara pulled him in with her arm across his back, kissing him right on the lips as everyone around them went about their business. Despite being at a crowded backyard party, it was practically a private moment.

“That works too,” Rodrick murmured, somewhat stunned. “Wait. Can it work again?” he smiled hopefully, not even expecting a kiss anytime soon.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, chuckling as he pulled her back in, one hand on her back and one hand on her cheek as he kissed her.

“Oh. What do you know? I’m a genius,” he announced triumphantly.

“I think this date is going swimmingly so far,” Sara concluded.

“Good,” he nodded. “Cuz from the first time I saw you, I thought I had to woo you.”

“Hmm,” she chuckled softly, “You’re sweet.”

“What did you think, when we met?” he asked curiously.

“Honestly?” she asked, not expecting the question as he nodded. “I thought you looked delicious.”

“You’re crazy,” Rodrick said, deciding he might as well try and help the others, “And I love it.”

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Sara announced, spotting a couple of friends inside.

“Hey,” Rodrick called, as the other boys started handing him things.

“What?” she called, looking back urgently.

“If I scratch my balls, that means I’m thinking of you,” Rodrick made a face, attempting to be cute.

“Very sweet, thank you!” Sara responded, heading inside for a moment.

It was safe to say that Sara really was the only thing that Rodrick was thinking of, even during their set, which was being played for a huge crowd for a small party. Throughout the entire thing, Rodrick could be seen looking to Sara in the front row as she refused to dance with anyone but her best friend, Lauren.

“Sar, your boyfriend’s staring at you!”

“I know,” was all the girl had to say about it.

“He’s cute! And not a Mormon! I approve!” Lauren yelled over their surroundings.

“Lenwood wasn’t a Mormon,” Sara sighed as they danced, not eager to be seen as Lenwood Heath’s ex-girlfriend again.

“His name was also ‘Lenwood’,” Lauren stated.

Sara just sighed. “Fair enough.”

Although she didn’t get her hopes up with Rodrick at all, Sara was glad to be seen with someone who wasn’t a military school-attending lifeguard. She would’ve taken Charlie Sheen over a walking Ken doll any day. Unfortunately, Sara had her mother’s taste in men.

But she felt absolutely no shame in herself as she danced in the very front of the crowd, watching as Rodrick made an aggressive peace sign onstage, jokingly sticking his tongue in the middle of it as he riffed behind Bill. Rodrick was looking right at her, teasing her as he seemed to be air-fucking Chris’s guitar, which he also for some reason stole during the performance.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” a girl near them screamed to her friends.

Lauren Do just laughed as she threw her arm around her best friend, as the two of them mindlessly swayed to the heavy metal music with a considerable amount of tequila and cognac both in them. How their liver survived past junior year, they had no idea.

“Yo, you guys did amazing!” Lauren exclaimed as they joined the boys after their performance.

“Hell yeah, man!” Bill roared, wrapping her in a giant bear hug. “How you been, kiddo?!”

“Hey, Sara,” Rodrick smirked, arriving already stumbling due to the many drinks he’d been handed from the stage to where the girls were waiting.

“Hey, Rodrick,” she chuckled at him, waiting for him to make a move.

“So,” he slurred as he threw his arm around her, unable to take his eyes off of her. “Wanna go somewhere… private?” he giggled childishly.

“Sure,” she agreed.

And then, they ended up sitting in the back of the van, doors open as they finally enjoyed their time alone. Sara liked that Rodrick shared the same mind as her.

“You look really pretty tonight,” Rodrick said suddenly, “Wait. Did I already tell you that?”

“I’ll make an exception,” she allowed.

“Did you like the show?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Sara promised. “I really did. You were really… on tonight, you know?”

He nodded slowly, finding the compliment deeply validating.

“Really? You think so?”

“Yeah. I really do,” she told him.

“I think you did really good,” Rodrick offered.

“I just stood in the crowd,” she said flatly.

“And you were perfect,” he pointed out, smiling as he looked at her with a teasing smile.

“You’re such an idiot,” Sara flirted, a slight vocal fry catching Rodrick’s attention.

He couldn’t contain his childlike sense of joy as he looked right into her eyes, framed by sparkling black eye shadow. He began to worry that he was making too much eye contact.

“Your hair smells like candy,” he breathed, “It’s like crack.”

“Are you drunk?” Sara said playfully.

“Sort of,” he shrugged. “I had…”

She waited as he counted on his fingers.

“Five shots,” he calculated in a drawled slur, somehow on both hands. “And someone passed me a joint at some point. Not sure what idiot would do that,” he laughed.

“Lightweight,” she quipped.

“You know, I think having you in the crowd helped,” Rodrick thought aloud, “It was like… an anchor.”

“An anchor?” Sara wondered.

“Yeah. An anchor. Like, you know, when I look at other people… all I see is bullshit. Like every time I look at anyone else,” he slurred his way through his point, “I just wanna scream in their face, like ‘shut the fuck up’ before they even start talking. But then, when I see you… I want you to not shut the fuck up.”

“And what would you like me to not shut the fuck up about?” she inquired.

“Uh… Anything, really,” Rodrick admitted. “I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

“Well, what do you wanna know?”

“Uh. What’s your favorite color?” he asked in turn.

“Seriously?”

“What? Gotta start somewhere,” he pointed out.

“I don’t really have one,” Sara sighed, “Usually, I just say black.”

“Me too,” he nodded, “I just like dark colors. I think they look nice,” he rambled.

“Yeah.”

“I like them on you,” he chortled, drunkenly booping her nose.

She flinched, not out of any sort of fear, but mainly because most people didn’t really tend to do things like boop her nose.

“Wow, you’re a happy drunk,” Sara nodded, taking everything in.

Rodrick giggled happily, wrapping his arm around her, more so for support than affection as he slowly began to fall into her lap.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, sloppily fishing around in his pants pocket, “Wanna share a joint and talk about life?”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” she decided, fully aware that whatever Rodrick would have to say about life in that moment would be very interesting to her.

“Yay.”

She watched as he dug around in his pocket for a lighter, handing her the joint.

“First hit, milady?” he said in a horrible British accent.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Sara accepted, joint hanging out of her mouth as Rodrick held the lighter up to it.

It took him a minute to align the flame with the end of the joint, but eventually, it got there. She took a couple of decent hits, attempting to get closer to Rodrick’s level. The two sat for a few minutes or so, silently passing it back and forth as they both tried to find things to talk about.

“How did you become so cool?” he asked out of nowhere.

Sara looked at him incredulously, once again s surprised by how genuinely sweet he could be without even realizing it.

“I don’t know that I’m that cool,” she shrugged indifferently.

“Yeah, you are! You like cool music, you dress cool, and you make cool art, and you talk cool!” he exclaimed, luckily not hitting the joint too hard.

“I mean… A lot of that stuff, I kinda got from Bill,” she supposed. “He showed me most of the stuff I like now.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Bill’s a cool guy,” Rodrick nodded.

“What about you and Greg? Does he like what you like?” Sara asked curiously.

“No way,” he scoffed. “He’s not that cool.”

It took a moment before Rodrick actually thought about the question and passed the joint back.

“I feel like he’s got too much going for him to like what I like,” he remarked.

“How so?”

“I don’t know,” Rodrick breathed, “My little brother, he just… he’s not a fuck up like I was, or like I am, you know? He gets okay grades, he doesn’t get in too much trouble, he doesn’t have to play dumb to keep himself from getting disappointed.

“Like, don’t get me wrong, the kid’s not a genius, but he’s average. Perfectly average. He fits in. He’s shit at most things, and okay at some things. He’s, like, what most parents will settle for. He doesn’t need me, or my stupid advice,” he expressed.

Sara nodded wordlessly, beginning to understand him a lot more.

“I know what you mean,” she offered. “My little brother… He’s so smart. He’s a genius, like, when I was a kid, I read at a college reading level and stuff, but this kid is like science smart. He’s gonna become a fucking doctor,” she said between puffs.

“Whoa. That’s, like, as close to a real life wizard as you can get,” Rodrick realized in awe.

“My mom, she had Bill really young, and she had me just a couple years before she actually got away from our dad, and became a real adult, I guess,” Sara explained, “So I feel like my little brother’s the only one of us who got a real childhood… And like, good for him, but I’m also jealous.”

Rodrick looked at her with genuine sadness in his eyes, one hand holding the joint, and one hand on her cheek.

“You… deserved a good childhood,” he whispered.

Somehow, despite how drunk and high he sounded, Sara accepted what he had to say.

“Is it weird that I wanna kiss you right now?” she questioned.

“No,” Rodrick shook his head nervously.

“Was that your plan all along?” she asked. “Get me to share, and then make out with me?”

“Nope,” he said honestly. “I didn’t think I could get you to kiss me at all, let alone twice,” he pointed out.

“That checks out,” she remarked.

“But that’s good to know,” Rodrick said softly, an innocent smile on his face.

“Open your mouth,” Sara muttered, raising the joint to her lips.

In a flash, Rodrick felt he might’ve known what she meant, but he wasn’t sure. Slowly opening his mouth, he watched her movements carefully as she ghosted the joint, exhaling slightly just to pull the smoke back in. Leaning into him, she made a tiny ‘O’ shape with her lips, blowing smoke right into his mouth as he desperately inhaled, needing to breathe her in.

He kissed her softly, not wanting to be too aggressive as he lightly rested his hand on her thigh, hooking his other arm around her. She came closer to him, giving him one last deep kiss before pulling away, taking another hit for him to inhale from her.

“Fuck,” he gasped, laughing in disbelief. “I’m kissing the coolest girl at the party! And, ever,” he chuckled.

As the two of them killed the joint and forgot it even existed, Rodrick eventually returned to his previous state of silently worshiping Sara.

“I don’t want you to think I just wanna hook up, or something,” he said, feeling kind of stupid, “I don’t wanna kiss you because I’m trying to sleep with you. I wanna kiss you because you’re the one person worth kissing.”

“We’ll see if you can prove it,” she decided.

He thought she was leaning in to kiss him, but this time, she got up, sitting down on his lap. He looked at her practically in shock as she laid her hands on his shoulders, looking at him nonchalantly. To him, this was a shockingly kind gesture, but to her, it was a simple test to make sure he didn’t react like he knew this was coming all along.

“Oh, fuck,” Rodrick gasped, unable to control his responses.

She looked at him innocently, playing with his hair as she sat on his lap.

“Is this okay?” she asked him.

“More than okay,” he nodded quickly, seeming flustered.

He closed his eyes slowly as she leaned into kiss him, fingers getting lost in his hair as she deepened the kiss. He was a bit stiff at first, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but eventually, he became more confident in what he did for her. Rodrick placed his hands on her waist in a more innocent manner, not groping or grabbing.

He was simply admiring her, taking pleasure in the fact that he got to look at her more so than anything else. Closing his eyes readily, he gave a tiny, surprised whine as her kisses moved to his neck, gradually becoming more rough. He panted softly as he felt her nipping at the sensitive skin on his neck, now desperately grabbing onto her ass.

He mumbled random and desperate praise as she kissed his neck, completely lost in his own ecstasy.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he laughed lightly, “You’re perfect. You’re so pretty. Shit,” he whined, feeling her grind harder and harder against him.

Sara roughly tilted Rodrick’s head upward by suddenly tugging on his hair, listening to his surprisingly high-pitched sounds as she kissed on his neck. A low grunt got caught in his throat as she hit the right spot, sighing as she brought her kiss back up to his lips.

“You like that, huh?” she wondered.

“Yeah,” Rodrick nodded quickly, stopping to hold her, his arms wrapped protectively around her. “I do. This is literally the best date ever,” he laughed.

“Is that so?” Sara asked in amusement.

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyes wide and pleading as he tried to compose himself.

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